


Oh, only if you dare.

by vrisadefer



Category: Slavic Mythology & Folklore
Genre: F/F, F/M, Historical-ish Fiction, M/M, Witchcraft, nobles and peasants, shameless gayness and witchery, wife-stealing witch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2020-07-11 14:44:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19929787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vrisadefer/pseuds/vrisadefer
Summary: a man makes a deal with a witch. he cares little for consequences. "nothing is free in this world" says the witch. the man shrugs "what do you desire, my firstborn? you can have him.""no," says the witch, grinning in the shadows. "your wife."a story of a noble Polish woman, somewhere around the XVII century. Dorota Dziewanowska - nee Żywiecka - is a cherished wife of Henryk Dziewanowski, an aspiring nobleman of younger, lesser nobility. Cherished as she is the means of social and financial advance in the society. However, Henryk is willing to sacrifice a lot to gain what he truly desires - perhaps even his most cherished Dorota...





	1. O, storks, where did you go?

**Author's Note:**

> An introductory chapter - to meet Dorota and Henryk at this peculiar turn of their lives that will be so crucial for their futures.

Spring came late that year - snow on the fields lasted well into April, and cold nights tormented young leaves in orchards leaving them frozen and brittle in the morning. Old people in the village were telling strange tales of some God-sent punishment, scaring the youth by reading prophecies of war and unrest in the flocks of confused by the harsh winter birds. Wherever a stork nest sat on the roof, there was a family impatiently awaiting the return of its inhabitants - many were praying in the little chapel at the crossroads to the city, or in their homes, for their safe and fast return. To see a stork was good luck, to have its nest on the roof was a blessing to the entire household. But a spring with no storks was like a sentence of doom upon all the lands, a scowl from the absolute, an unforgiving judgement that always leads to despair. Old people still remembered the last spring with no storks - and the terrible war that came after, when hordes pillaged the villages and left nothing but ashes and blood-soaked, mourning earth.

It was that little chapel on the crossroads that they have stopped the carriage by, to let the horses drink from the stream. They have been travelling since the dawn broke, and coiling dirt roads through fields and forests were as tiring to the passengers as they were to horses.

Two women were praying in the chapel, and one was sitting beside, with her feet in the stream. She was weaving grasses and daisies together, and hardly flinched when the carter led the horses to water just next to her. The horses did not mind her at all either.

\- The fields are still spotted white, the water must be so cold. - said the woman sitting in the carriage, quietly. - How does she keep her feet in the stream, when it is so cold? - she slowly shook her head, deep in her thoughts and more talking to herself than to her husband in front of her.

\- A foolish peasant girl, Dorota, nothing more. The cold will go to her lungs and she will die before harvest, you will see. - he said, eyebrows furrowed. He was mad that they had to stop just to let the horses drink, as he wanted to be home before dusk.

\- Foolish peasant girl. - the woman repeated absentmindedly. - Foolish girl.

\- You must be so tired, dove. - said the man suddenly, his expression mild, nearly nice in the concern. - Soon we will be home, and you will rest.

\- Thank you, my dear husband. - the woman smiled faintly and looked at her husband just for a moment.

Henryk Dziewanowski was a stately man, of broad yet firm figure, with fawn hair and beard. Beards were not in fashion among the younger noblemen, and Henryk would not allow himself to be seen this way in the city or during any social meetings, but for the past two months he hardly had time to tend to himself, and his razors lied unused. 

Two months ago all seemed to be well, no war and conscription in sight, the reserves in the granaries and basements were good and would last them even the longest winter. He was even sitting in the third row in the church, at last, surrounded by respected noblemen of older and more famous coats of arms - a great and promising social advance. Soon he would have had enough money to send more gold to the Duke, help the cause, rise in the ranks, be known for his fortune and generosity! But sadly, the sky above him darkened: his wife, Dorota - such cherished tie, as she came from the house Żywieccy, a renowned family - suddenly fell sick. She would not eat and she would not get out of bed; when she did, she would cry, break plates, howl as if he beat her. The family’s doctor said she needs to travel and rest for some time more in the south, where the crisp mountain air would carry that strange affliction away. They lived close to the market and the square, and the Duke’s garrison, and the church - the doctor judged that it was precisely that which caused the changes of mood and predisposition: too much noise, too many people. Too much smoke in the air! Too many women gossiping needlessly, and too many young man in the Duke’s service joking crudely and inappropriately where poor delicate Dorota could hear. “It would upset anyone’s humours” the doctor would say “Especially a woman so… respectable, and God-fearing.”

  
And thus it was decided that Henryk and his wife had to travel to their manor in the mountains, far from clamour and smoke, and spend some time there. The manor was in Henryk’s family for generations, built by his great-grandfather, Dobromir Dziewanowski, but since his death it was rarely used. It came to life only in summer and fall, when Henryk and his brothers and cousins would meet there to hunt. The mountain forests were thick and rich with mighty beasts, and the manor’s basement filled with aged in oak barrels mead. They would leave their wives and children, and their tiring ordinary lives, and travel there to shoot and drink, be merry and be- 

\- You seem worried. - said Dorota quietly. - You do not have to be. I feel well.

\- That is good to hear, and I thank God in heavens for it. - he replied, yet worry was still clear in his voice: the truth was that he feared his wife would only get worse in the manor, surrounded only by fields and trees and peasants. Go mad, perhaps. What would he do then? Żywieccy were a great family and her kin would never forgive him for divorce, he would be ruined in the country. The Duke would never look kindly at him, and gone would be his hopes for riches and respect.

\- What is on your mind, dear? - his wife asked, reaching out for his hand.

\- Oh, nothing. I wonder if the servants are ready for us, and if the chambers are heated. It is terribly cold here at night.

\- I imagine! I dreamt of mountains as a little girl, but father had too many goods far north to come here. 

Dorota spent the last four hours looking through the little window at the mountains unraveling on the horizon, and felt her heart fill with wonder - and certain fear, too, deep and profound respect. Perhaps that was a taste of true fear of God. The mountains were ancient and loomed over her as if she was utterly and hopelessly meaningless - a lost child, cowering in the face of such absolute. Yet there was something freeing in this feeling, some innocence lost but rediscovered, some yearning long forgotten that finally rose to the surface and, bubbling up, released itself into the cold air, into the lively noise of the streams and birds - into the tempting mystery of the dark, old forest.

\- How long can they drink?! - shouted Henryk suddenly, and Dorota flinched. She learnt not to flinch at the sound of his angered voice, but now she was so lost in the thoughts and the mountains that she forgot to brace.

The two women praying in the chapel turned around, outraged that someone dared to interrupt them in such a profound moment. Henryk scoffed - he cared little for opinions of peasants. The woman sitting by the stream, however, laughed. It was barely audible, and for a moment Dorota thought she had made it up in her own mind. After all, a peasant woman laughing at a nobleman man would be… Scandalous. And _foolish_.

But it didn’t matter whether the girl laughed or not - Henryk did not hear anything and could not get mad at it. It did not matter at all.

\- Can I go out to the chapel? It looks so pretty. I would like to pray. - said Dorota after a moment of thought. - The horses are still resting.

\- Soon it will be Sunday and we will drive to the church and pray. There will be a lot of time to pray. - replied Henryk, not looking back at her but observing something through the carriage’s little window with furrowed brows.

\- Husband, please. - she reached out and grabbed his hand again. Her hands were delicate and cool against his skin, and he snapped out of his own thought.

\- Go, if you want to, but hurry back. Stay away from the stream, it is cold and you might get sick.

\- Of course. - she replied and her eyes lit up. - Of course.

She exited the carriage carefully as to avoid stepping in the mud with her light yellow - nearly white - leather shoes, adorned with little pearls. They were a gift from her mother, one of the few really rich and decorative things she still possessed. With Henryk, whose family was newer nobility and did not have that many goods and riches, she dressed more humbly, inspired by the fashion from far western lands - Germany and Spain. She preferred grays and whites, and olive greens, and did not like her sleeves to be unnecessarily broadly cut - the ribbons she used to tie her sleeves and the front of her kirtle and gown were usually white, or black, or yellow. Her _ kontusik _ , when she wore it, was humble and orderly. She did not like excessive jewellery and bright colours - she usually dressed humbly. The only humble thing she despised was her  _ podwika _ , the headress of white cloth that all married noblewomen wore, especially those of the burgess state. She begged Henryk many times and asked not to be forced to wear it - she agreed to a cap trimmed with lace to hide her hair and show she is a married stately woman, and she wore it when they would see Henryk’s friends. They were all poorer and newer nobility so perhaps it was even better that way, as she did not look like she is flaunting the wealth of her family in their faces. Other than that, her head was bare and she did not wear a cap.

Henryk cared very little for fashion… Unless he was meeting his wealthier friends or the Duke’s men, then he would open all the chests and make the servants choose the most outrageous and rich robes - chemises embroidered with silver or gold, bright red  _ kontusz _ , furs, caps with feathers and gems! Dorota did think he looked positively ridiculous, but she would never say so out loud. They all dressed like that, even her father, Stanisław Żywiecki - angels keep his blessed soul - and she never liked that fashion. Too rich, too bright, too… _Noble_ , perhaps. 

How differently were the peasant girls dressed in that chapel! In white chemises, open at collarbones, plain weave skirts rolled up to save from mud, showing off woolen stockings with ribbons and tied calf-leather shoes, with soles layered with spruce bark. Thick braids thrown over shoulders, and no cap on their heads - perhaps they were unmarried, perhaps they chose not to wear them. There was something simple there, ordinary, and yet so… Shameless, nearly. Dorota braced herself and entered the chapel; it was cool inside and it smelled of old wood and flowers.

\- Praised be our lord Jesus Christ.- she whispered and made the sign of the cross.

\- And his Mother Mary. - replied one of the peasant girls while the other nodded. They both tried to pretend they did not see it was a noble woman that entered.

\- What are you praying for? - Dorota asked and quickly felt a wave of embarrassment come over her; what a silly question to ask these poor faithful women.

\- A, we pray, dear lady, for the storks to come back home! For them to come back to us so the spring can bloom, and no misery falls upon our heads. - replied the taller woman, her hands still joined together in prayer. - A, see, there are no storks here yet, and it is late already!

\- I see, I see! - replied Dorota, overjoyed they did not deem her question foolish or intrusive.

\- Our good Mary, matula, mother of little Jesus himself, she will surely tell the storks to come back! - said the other girl. - What pretty shoes you have.

\- Oh. - she did not know what to say suddenly. - Oh. Thank you.

\- A, no need. They are pretty.

\- Thank you.

\- Will you pray with us? The priest says there is no nobility in heaven, and we are all equal then, but methinks perhaps your words might urge the storks more. - asked the tall woman. She fastened the little glass button in her collar after glancing at Dorota’s clothes.

\- Of course! Of course. - Dorota replied and started praying. - _Hail Mary_ …-

\- You done? - a voice echoed suddenly in the white chapel. All three women turned around fast. It was the other woman, the one from the stream, standing on the threshold.

\- We just came! - fussed the tall woman.

\- Not you, you goose! - the woman laughed with a puzzled expression. - The mighty lady over here. The horses are ready, and your husband is so red in the face I fear his heart might give out!

The peasant women giggled, and Dorota just made the sign on the cross again.

\- Sorry. - she said quietly while leaving the chapel. She felt shame, but she wasn’t sure why.

\- Or perhaps he is not your husband, a? - shouted the girl as she was leaving. - Your head is bare, perhaps he had kidnapped a poor maiden! - there was joy in her voice, rebellious one, yet no mockery.

Dorota made the sign of the cross again, hoping with all her might that Henryk did not hear that.


	2. Not afraid of the dark.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dziewanowscy arrive at the mountain manor at last. The night smells sweet, and a supper awaits - and a new, exciting chapter of Dorota's life is right behind the corner.

When they finally arrived to the manor, the sun has already set and the air filled with sounds of nocturnal creatures slowly waking up. Back home there were too many homes, too many people, too many dogs and fires for wild things to get too close. 

Dorota held her husband’s arm tightly and kept looking into the shadows, as if she could suddenly see some eerie and unusual event that would further push her into that profound awe of the land she has found herself in. See some magical thing happening, hidden from every mortal eye but hers… O, to be chosen, allowed to learn some great mystery, for once be the one who-

\- Are you feeling ill? You slowed down. - Henryk asked, looking at his wife. Having left the carriage near the road for the carter and servants to deal with, they were walking through the orchard toward the manor. There was light in all the windows, but the path itself was dark and Henryk did not have a torch.

\- Oh, I am fine, husband. I could not feel better. - she replied in a hushed voice, still looking somewhere between the apple and plum trees.

\- I should have taken a torch, I apologise. Foolish carter did not even think of reminding me! You must be so frightened. - he said, thinking of what he is going to eat for dinner. Hopefully the servants prepared some rabbit pâté, or roasted goose, or at least a duck with fried acorns.

\- I am not afraid of the dark. - Dorota furrowed her eyebrows, strangely stung by the remark. - I am not a child.

\- Of course, of course. - her husband replied, stroking her arm. - Of course.

She did not talk until they reached the manor doors. 

She could not see much in the darkness, other than that the thick walls were white and all windows had wooden shutters, now opened wide to let some light from the chambers out for them. There were some lights up in the windows on the great hip roof, too, and she wondered whether she would be sleeping upstairs. Some part of her adored attics terribly, and was always fond of being able to sleep far from the kitchen and far from the guest rooms. She was allowed to sleep upstairs in the summer manor over the lake as a child, and it was one of the most cherished sweet memories of childhood for her. The creaking of wooden stairs, the shadows that would embrace your head and shoulder before your hand with the candle emerged from the stairwell, the smell of wood and hay and smoke… The strange safety of a small, confined space and slanted ceiling. She felt as if she was a bird sleeping on a wooden beam that supported the high roof of a church, somewhere far up, far away from everyone, bathed in incense and hymns from people down below. Unbothered, and ever so closer to divinity!

Three steps lead to the porch and heavy wooden door - they had no rail so Henryk had to help her up as her legs were sore and tired from the long journey, and her joints hurt.

The door opened before them so fast that Dorota was blinded with the light coming from inside, and had to cover her face with her hand.

\- Oh, praised be the Lord! - an older woman exclaimed. She was the same height as Dorota but her shoulders and hips were broader, and her chin fatter. - It is dark already, we feared you might have gotten lost on the trail, good lord.

\- We had to stop for Dorota to rest and pray, and thus we are a bit late. But worry not, we are feeling well and we arrived just in time for supper, I hope. - Henryk said.

\- Oh, yes, yes, of course. Please. - the woman said and showed them another door, quickly opened by another servant. They lead to a chamber with a great oak table and benches with linen and furs on them. - We will bring the repast in a blink of an eye, my lord.

\- Yes, good. And tell everyone to come to the chamber after we eat, I want my dearest wife to meet her servants.

\- A, of course, of course! - the woman nodded so low she nealy bowed, and the cap on her hair moved to her forehead. She straightened it fast, and Dorota noticed her hands were red. Before she could get a better look, the servant hid her hands in her apron and then disappeared in the corridor leading to the kitchen.

\- Come, wife. You must be hungry.

The truth was that Dorota was not hungry at all - her belly was filled with excitement at all this new and wonderful things, filled with cold mountain air that smelled sweetly of night, and some kind of tension she could not understand nor get rid of. But she knew all too well she had to eat or otherwise she would not be able to rise from her bed the next day.

\- Sit, sit. - Henryk lead her to a bench and helped her sit down. He himself sat on the other end of the table. Suddenly it felt as if he was a mile away, such big was the table. Yet the ceilings were much lower than back home, and it created a strange sense of space, something unusual and unknown, as if a crypt or some pagan temple in the woods, both sheltering you and trapping you within.

\- This house is beautiful. - she said, looking around at the walls. There were tapestries there - not as rich as the ones her family owned, but they had some rugged charm to them than the flowery decorations in her house lacked.

\- It is, it is indeed. I am so happy you like it. - Henryk said, looking impatiently at the corridor and the kitchen doors.

\- It is so… Wild. - she added, stroking the surface of the table. The wood was scratched in some places, and rough underneath her fingertips.

\- How can a house be wild? - he asked, puzzled, and his voice was unpleasant. - What a strange thing to say. You must be tired.

\- And you must be hungry. - she replied, but her voice was quieter again.

Very soon the door opened and in came the servants with food - bowls of groats and sour milk, boiled cabbage and broad beans, plates with bread and butter, and plum confiture. A small yet broad girl came in with two jugs of beer.

\- Is that all? - Henryk asked as she was pouring into his cup.

\- There is more in the basement, lord. - the girl replied with the same melody of voice as the rest of the servants, and the women praying in the chapel. A mountain melody.

\- Food, I mean. - he huffed. - Some eggs, at least.

\- A, Aniela will bring the grouse in a moment, lord. - the servant replied with a nod.

\- Good. - he replied, and got to eating.

The servant girl went around the table to pour some beer for Dorota, too, but she was soon stopped by the man.

\- She does not drink beer, or wine. Bring her water, or some sweet syrup if you have it.

\- Of course. - the girl replied but there was something hesitant in her words - something she did not dare to voice. She disappeared in the corridor.

\- I could use a glass of young wine. - Dorota said.

\- Oh, you could, could you? You’d feel weak like during that christening of Dąbrowscy’s little son, and I’d have to carry you to bed. - he said, focused more on his plate than the tone of his voice. In effect, he sounded ruder than he meant to.

\- That was not because of the wine, I told you. - she replied, feeling her cheeks and ears burn with embarrassment. - I told you.

\- Yes, yes. Now, eat please. The girl will bring you some water soon.

The door opened and in came the older woman that greeted them - Aniela - carrying a bowl with a bird inside, steaming hot.

\- Hazel grouse in cumin and butter, my lord, with onions on the side! Just the way you and your dear brothers like.

Henryk’s expression got milder again, nearly content.

\- Aniela, you are a golden woman!

\- You flatter me, lord. I have been blessed by our good Father in heavens with good hand for cooking and good eye for spice, and I thank Him for that every night as I pray.

\- Pray! We should pray! - Henryk suddenly exclaimed, wiping his face with the embroidered cloth napkin lying on the table.

\- Oh, of course! We have all already prayed for you and your wife, and your safe arrival! God must have listened! - Aniela said, her voice like a song. She smiled at Dorota - there was something endearing and reassuring in the wrinkles and dimples of her face. Dorota returned the smile from beyond the nearly untouched plate, feeling her mood get slightly better.

\- Leave, now. - Henryk said suddenly. - We will pray alone. I will call for you after we finish our supper. Tell the servants they are not to go to sleep, I must introduce them to Dorota.

\- Of course. - said Aniela nodding, and left the room without looking at them again.

Dorota tried to eat but her throat would close up and not allow her to swallow even one bite. She drank some sweet syrup - raspberry, it must have been - and it made her feel a bit better. Henryk quickly went through most of the plates, and kept adding some bits to her plate but did not look if she’s eating. He was thinking of something deeply, and Dorota did not mind the silence.

\- Last time we were here - he said suddenly, finishing another cup of beer. - Was two or three winters ago, me and my brothers, and our cousin… The one that married that hunchback woman, remember? I do not know why we invited him, for jest perhaps. - he added, and she noticed a smile on his face. - He could not hunt at all!

\- I thought he just joined the Duke’s regiment and that was why you invited him.

There was a long moment of silence, interrupted only by the sound of Henryk swallowing and wiping his face.

\- No. - he replied slowly. - You must have remembered wrong.

She did not reply but felt her ears sting again.

\- It is very warm in this chamber. - she said instead, trying to continue some semblance of conversation, - The fireplace is wonderful.

\- Mhm. Aniela! - he shouted, and she flinched again. She berated herself in her thoughts for it. - We are done!

Servants came and took the plates and cups back to the kitchen. Aniela was the one taking Dorota’s place and she saw that she had hardly eaten anything. She looked at her with some strange yet warm kindness, a motherly concern.

\- We will make something sweet for you, my lady, for breakfast. - she said - nearly whispered - seeing that Dorota only drank the raspberry syrup. - Sometimes the stomach craves sweetness and sugar, and that might lift our spirits! - she added, and smiled.

\- Thank you. - said Dorota softly.

All servants present in the manor came into the chamber. There were two stable boys, very young, that smelled of horses and hay - they avoided looking at the couple but instead focused on their own boots. There was the older gardener, and two other men that helped him with the orchard and land. Then there was Aniela, and the short girl that was pouring the beer, and three other women that helped with the kitchen and laundry and animals. Aniela's hands were no longer red. 

They all looked slightly differently than people back home, at least for Dorota: there was something different to their faces, and their brows, and the way the walked and talked. Oh, that talking! That mountain melody, such sing-a-song, such rhythm! Some words sounded silly to her, but she knew her speech must sound as strange to them.

\- This is my wife, Dorota. You are to respect her and obey her as you would me, understood?

They all nodded. One servant boy yawned, and Dorota thought it must be really late. The servants must wake so early after all!

\- Cater to her every whim! - he added. Dorota noticed that the short girl exchanged a look with another servant. It was bemused, she thought, if not rude. Mocking, even.

\- If you ever need anything, call for Aniela. - Henryk turned to her. - She is the soul of this manor and she will always help you to the best of her abilities.

\- Of course! - Aniela said. - A, my lord, how we all rejoiced when we learned you have married!

\- We did, we did. - added the gardener. The older servants seemed to be the only ones to dare and speak with Henryk directly. - And married so well! God in heavens bless you, my dear lady! And your marriage with love and many children!

The short servant girl exchanged another look with the servant next to her, and Dorota felt her cheeks burn again. It was two years, nearly, after all. Two years of marriage and she has not bore any children.

\- Thank you, Józef, thank you. - Henryk nodded and stroked his beard. - Now, time to sleep! Show us to our chamber and then we will see you at breakfast.

The servants left the chamber, leaving only Aniela.

\- This way. - she said, smiling.

\- Will we sleep upstairs? - Dorota asked.

\- Oh. - Aniela was taken aback for a moment. - Oh, no, the great chamber is here. It has a wonderful view, you can see the orchard and the apiary, and the stream behind it!

\- I hope there will be no bees in our chamber. - said Henryk sourly.

\- No, no, of course not. - Aniela nodded. - Your bed is ready and warmed. Goodnight, lord, goodnight, lady. - she bowed slightly, and left them in their room.

Dorota looked around. The chamber was nice, and quite vast despite the low ceiling. There were paintings on the walls: hunting, and golden fields, and mountains. The furs on the bed looked soft.

\- This will be our bedroom, my dove! - Henryk said. - Look how cozy it is! You will surely get better here in no time.

\- It truly looks wonderful. - she replied. The bedroom was nice, although Dorota was still mourning the fact she could not sleep upstairs.

\- And your chamber is just next to it. - he added. - So I can always be close if you suddenly feel worse, especially during… - he stopped. - Well, _your time._

\- Yes. - she said. - That is very sweet of you, husband.

\- Do you want to see it now or tomorrow? I am quite exhausted. - he said.

\- No, let us go to bed, dear. - she said.

They undressed and lied in the bed, and Dorota stroked her husbands arm.

\- This place truly is wonderful. I already feel better.

\- Mhm. - he replied, and fell asleep.

It took her quite some time to fall asleep - hours perhaps. But the place was so unknown and strange, and her mind kept racing with all these thoughts and feelings. The change was exciting, of course, and yet it felt as if not much has changed at all, besides scenery and servants. Henryk was still… Henryk. She knew he blamed her for her affliction, for the need for them to leave to the mountains. And she knew that he blamed for the fact that they, two years after being wed, remained childless still.

She took a deep breath in, and the mountain air was sweet on her mouth. She felt the darkness around her, and it was soothing. She was never afraid of the dark, she has always found it to be a safe and calming force.

She exhaled, and trying to clear her mind, allowed the sleep to take her into its calming embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gayness requires patience, my dearest friends. in this house we burn - and we burn slowly.


	3. Cows and flowers.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living in the mountain manor was challenging - the air was cold, the roosters were wild, and the servants were... A mystery, mostly. Aniela is nice, Marychna tries to be, Henryk does not know what that means.

Dorota woke up early - two roosters crowing interrupted her dreams, and she decided to get out of the bed at last and see her room. Eat something perhaps, too, as she felt her strength leaving her and her belly calling for something more than raspberry syrup. The fire in the fireplace in the next chamber burnt out completely during the night, and now everything was cold to touch. She felt a shiver on her skin when she threw off the covers and sneaked out of the bed as not to wake up her husband. He was difficult to wake, luckily, especially if he had good food and beer the day before.

She still felt the hazy traces of her dream’s embrace; she hardly remembered what she dreamed about, only that it was mysterious and exciting, and she could hear church bells in the dream. Perhaps a newfound and newborn longing for their home manifested so: they lived so close to the church, and she would hear the bells everyday. Here, the silence felt strange and unknown, even more so than the silence she grew accustomed to in her own home.

She lightly lifted some fur from the chair beside the window, and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was soft and warm to touch, and her fingers felt like they melted right into the white strands. Sheep, she thought, or lamb. It sheltered her nicely from the cold of the mountain morning, as her nightgown was hardly made for such cool drafts. She put on her slippers and quietly walked towards the door to the other room - the one that was supposed to be her private chamber, for dressing and resting, and sleeping during her unclean days. The brass handle had a shape similar to those she saw in churches as a child - a simple and old-fashioned thing, yet somehow endearing through it. She touched it and nearly flinched at the cold sensation; luckily it gave in easily and the door opened.

The room was small and had no window. It had, however, its own little fireplace, and a big tin basin with two jugs next to it. They made her think of the short servant girl from the supper, and her mood became slightly worse. There were some furs, a painting of blue starthistles, and a great carefully embroidered cloth hanging on the wall, full of intricate designs. It must have been something, but she could not decipher what all those lines and dots were supposed to represent - still, she found it pleasing. There was a small wooden table in the corner and a slightly smoked mirror on it - it would be perfect if it wasn’t for the fact that there was nearly no light in the chamber. There was a wooden bench, two chests, and a bundle of raw wool on a chair.

She went back to the bedroom: Henryk was still asleep. With her gone he spread more on the bed, taking up most of the space - at least that way he did not snore. She should wait for him to wake up and only then have breakfast but she could not bear the thought of going back to bed and wasting time lying and looking at the ceiling. Her affliction caused her to be weak a lot and she would have to lie and lie and lie, and it was tiring and boring. As long as her predisposition allowed her to walk around, she would.

Leaving her bedroom in her nightgown was inappropriate, yes - and yet, she thought, if it is her manor and she is lady of the house, and these servants do not know her family and they would not gossip around in the town, why not walk around the way she wants. The nightgown was humble, of course, and covered everything from her neck down to her ankles. She wrapped the fur tighter around her shoulders and left the bedroom.

The manor was quiet - the walls here were much thicker than back home, and sound did not carry well. Unless through the windows, of course, and unless one would talk about roosters crowing mercilessly. The corridor was dark and smelled of wood. She could not see much, but soon passed an open door with light let in. It was the main chamber where they ate last night. It looked much more welcoming in the soft light of morning. She kept going - another chamber, a guest bedroom, a kitchen, the room where servants would dine and rest. All empty - no one was around. Every room was cold. She decided to go out on the porch, perhaps she would see the servant’s quarters and the stables, and someone would be there. She has gotten quite thirsty but did not know what from the kitchen she could take.

The air outside was, surprisingly, warmer than inside: it smelled like fresh grass and dew, and the mountains. She stood on the first step and put a hand over her eyes, sheltering them from the morning sun, and looked around. No one in sight either.

Suddenly she felt her heart fill with unease - what if they all left them? Alone in the mountains? What would she do? She barely knew how to cook. She could sew handkerchiefs and pretty gloves, but she did not know how to make a _kożuch_ for winter. How to keep the fire going in the furnace? How to know if the meat in the larder is salted properly and will not go bad during winter? What if the roof starts leaking? What if the wolves come?

\- A, good morning lady! - she heard a light and loud voice. It was the short girl that poured beer the previous night. - You are an early bird, truly!

\- Oh, good morning. - she replied, quiet as usual. The girl was standing far to the right, near the barn hidden behind the orchard. - Good morning! - she added, louder this time. The girl waved at her.

\- Do you want milk, lady? - she yelled.

\- Excuse me? - Dorota yelled back, her voice breaking. She could not hear the girl too well, and soon she started fearing their yelling will wake Henryk up. She took a deep breath and went down the steps, and marched in her slippers toward the barn.

\- Milk, I asked, lady. It is still warm. - the girl asked with a smile. She patted the cow on her side. - Not that much of it today, but we will make do.

\- Thank you. I- I don’t know. Won’t it upset my stomach? - Dorota asked.

\- What? Why?

\- I don’t know. - she replied and felt her ears burn again.

\- You can try just some, lady, and see. I could hear your belly rumble from here! You barely ate or drank yesterday. 

\- Yes. - she replied. “And you have noticed it, and exchanged rude looks with other servants. You mocked me because I am weak and cannot drink, and then you mocked me because I gave Henryk no children yet.” she thought bitterly, but did not muster enough courage to say those things out loud. - You’re right. - she said instead.

\- Do you want to help me milk her, lady? Maybe she will yield more into delicate hands, mine are rough from the field.

\- Oh. - Dorota looked at the girl with wide eyes. - I don’t know if I… _Can._

\- It is easy! - the girl laughed. - But perhaps you are right, maybe it is not the best idea. I often get dumb ideas. - she laughed again. Her face was covered in freckles and her braid was messy. - They call me Marychna, lady, if you ever need milk. Or if you ever wake so early again, I am the only one who wakes before sunrise. See, the morning star still glimmers, it truly is early.

\- Yes. - Dorota whispered and looked around the barn. - A nice name.

\- Is it? - the girl laughed again. - Maybe. I don’t know. Still, remember, if you want milk just come tell me, I always have something hidden away in the cellar for cats.

\- I’m not a cat. - Dorota replied. The servant girl looked at her, completely silent. She raised her eyebrows and hesitated.

\- Um… Yes. - she replied, puzzled. - Of course you're not a... Well, anyway! I also have goat milk. Goat milk is better for the little ones, once they come.

Dorota felt her entire face burn suddenly, the shame from previous evening coming back threefold.

\- Do not be upset, lady. - Marychna said and her voice was slightly less rough suddenly. - I do not mean that as mockery.

Dorota did not say anything, but exhaled soflty and turned around to leave the barn.

\- ‘Tis not mockery, I swear. The cow did not have calves for a long time either. - she said, and Dorota heard her pat her back again. - Everyone fussed but it was not her fault, it was the bull! We took her to the village downstream to get under the brown one that old Łupa owns, and her belly was filled at once! No one ever blames the bull and that is mighty dumb.

\- I’m not a cow. - Dorota said, and left the barn, heading back to the bedroom.

Marychna shook her head.

\- Neither is our lord a bull but the truth is all the same. - she said. The cow let out a low and long moo, which followed Dorota home. She felt her face hurt from burning and even the cool air did not help.

When she got in, there was already someone in the kitchen. It was Aniela and one other servant, preparing breakfast. 

\- Oh goodness, my good lady, it is so early! - Aniela said. - You must be hungry. We have fresh bread and honey, I shall bring it to you if you want.

\- Thank you. - Dorota said. - I should wait for my husband.

\- Of course. - Aniela replied. - But there is no sin in just trying the bread: it rose so nicely and I would love to hear your opinion.

Dorota agreed to take just one bite - the bread smelled wonderfully and tasted even better. Aniela poured some honey on it, and smiled at her kindly.

\- It is not the great thing they make in the town, I’m sure, but I hope it does not offend your palate, my good lady. - she said.

\- It is… Amazing, thank you. And the honey is really nice, too.

\- Thank you! You warm my old heart. Now, go into the chamber, we will bring breakfast soon. The smell of good food will surely wake your husband and bring him to good spirits.

Dorota nodded, and went through the corridor back to the main chamber. The bread was so nicely filling she quickly realised it might be her saviour; for the first time in a long time she enjoyed something to eat. Hopefully Aniela would bring more for breakfast! 

She sat at the table and soon the door opened, and Henryk appeared in them.

\- You are awake so early? - he asked, surprise in his voice.

\- I am always awake early. - she replied.

\- Not this early, I’m sure. - he fastened some of his buttons. - When is breakfast?

\- Soon.

\- Good.

Silence fell again. Dorota thought about the servant girl. Perhaps she truly did not mean to mock her? She seemed sincere. She also seemed like a person that finds no use in lying - most of the people in the mountains appeared so, always honest in their simplicity. Bold, maybe, but honest.

\- Good Lord, what happened to your slippers?! - Henryk asked suddenly. Dorota looked down on her feet: they were all muddy.

\- I must have not noticed, I’m sorry. - she said. - I’ll go change.

\- I hope it is just mud. - Henryk said and a grimace appeared on his face. 

Before Dorota could say anything or even move, the servants brought in breakfast. There was bread and honey on her plate!

\- Why did you go out? - he asked, looking at her intensely.

\- A servant called me. She was milking a cow.

\- What?

\- Marychna is her name.

\- The cow?

\- No, the girl.

There was a moment of silence as Henryk started filling his plate with confiture and eggs.

\- So a foolish servant girl calls upon her lady, and the lady comes running through the mud? In her nightgown and slippers? Good God, woman, you truly are like a child sometimes.

\- I am not a child. - Dorota said, feeling all her appetite go away. - I was curious so I went. No sin in that.

\- Children are curious. - Henryk said. - And cats. You know the saying?

\- I’m not a cat. - Dorota said with more force this time. She could hardly believe she would repeat such a sentence in one day, in a span of one hour no less!

\- Have it your way. - Henryk said. - Servants not respecting you is one thing. But you could have gotten sick.

\- She was not disrespectful. - Dorota’s voice was stubborn. - And I had a fur on, it wasn’t that cold outside.

\- Mhm. - Henryk replied and focused on eating, ignoring his wife for the rest of the breakfast. He ruined her mood completely and she did not even touch the bread, nor the honey.

  
  


Dorota spent her afternoon embroidering: she was not very good at it but she hardly anything else to do. The cloth in her private chamber was so fascinating to her that she decided she would learn to make something similar. Henryk had to attend to some business and he took the carriage down the mountain to the closest village. The gardener and stable boy went with him. She sat, embroidering, on the porch, and looked up from time to time to see the bees waking up and buzzing around the orchard. The servants left her alone, busy with spring work; there was a lot to do now that the masters are at the manor, and more mouths to feed. The evening was nearing and the air got cold again, so she decided to go back to her room. Marvel at the cloth, rest a bit. Supper would be earlier than the day before, but it would be no less of a challenge.

When she got back into her room, she noticed a jug filled with water and many flowers in it - they were early spring flowers, still timid and brittle, but they smelled wonderfully. Yellowing cowslip, narcissus anemone, and bright coltsfoot. She put her face in them and inhaled.

\- A sweet gift. - she whispered to herself. - Cannot imagine Henryk picking wildflowers to cheer up his wife and her muddy slippers.

She looked at the flowers for a moment more, thinking whether she could try to embroider their likeness onto her work. It would not be easy, but it would not be impossible. She knew plants quite well, her grandmother taught her a lot before she passed. 

She looked closer at the jug, and something clicked.

\- Oh. - she said to herself and smiled lightly. - She really did not mean to be rude. How nice. - she smelled the flowers again and sat down to keep working, but her heart was lighter.


	4. Storms and storks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It rains in the mountains, and Dorota wishes she could feel it on her skin. Despite her husband's sour mood and complaining, she decides to take a walk.

The next day woke Dorota up with the low, gray humming of rain - water droplets hitting the roof sounded so differently there than back home that it did not allow her to fall back asleep. The roosters did not crow that day, perhaps sleepy still because of the weather. But Dorota loved rain - it was her safe harbour when life would get overwhelming. She found solace in the sound and in the smell, in the wind that brought it and the puddles that it left on the ground. 

If she ever felt like she was truly alive, it was during rainstorms. 

The doctor forbid her going out into the rain, of course. She was weakened and tired, and every cold draft could make her sick. It has been a long time since she felt rain on her skin, and she missed it terribly.

If she could only open the window, for a moment, for a short while, and lean through it, and feel the rain on her forehead like some wild baptism, a blissful, cold _kiss_ from the skies… And yet she knew Henryk would wake up and he would be mad at her. Rightfully so - it would be a foolish thing to risk her health just to get wet from rain, like a child. After all he did for her and all they had to sacrifice because of her affliction, it would be a cruel thing to do. She unbraided her hair, combed it, and neatly braided it again. She missed wearing it loose, but the should be grateful Henryk did not make her wear the podwika, or even the cap when they were alone. He was a good man, and he cared about her.

She threw the fur over her shoulders and left the bedroom quietly, walking through the silent corridor towards the kitchen. It was empty again, and she realised she must have woken up earlier than anyone else. Again.

Unless… Unless Marychna was milking the cow again. Dorota had no clue how often one milks a cow. Every morning? Or does the cow only have milk… sometimes? Once?

She reached the main door leading outside and hesitated. The handle was cold and she could feel wind touch her feet through the crack above the threshold. After a moment she decided that the fur on her back was enough to keep her warm and she would not leave the porch - rain would not catch her. She would just lean a bit to see whether the girl was in the barn, and then go back inside. She wouldn’t get sick from a second outside - no, _it should be the opposite_ , she should allow the mountain air to toughen her, change her, make her stronger and healthier! Like Marychna was. Dorota took a good look last time she saw her - the girl had red cheeks and a strong, thick braid. Her eyes looked alive, and her laughter was loud. She did not struggle to breathe. The rolled up sleeves of a white chemise showed strong arms, nearly unladylike in the way they are built - her calves similar, exposed by the skirt hitched up to save it from the barn’s mud. Nearly unladylike, far from nimble and delicate. And yet… Dorota berated herself in her mind for thinking about foolish things.

How different rain was in the mountains! All the trees came alive in that moment, whispering to each other. The looming mountains seemed as if they put their faces up to the rain, letting the water wash over them, feed them, wake them up. They were dark - but glistening, and there was something so deeply comforting about them, as if they were loving mothers, surrounding her, taking care of their daughter, letting her feel safe and at home.

_At home._ Dorota felt a slight burn in her cheeks, embarrassed by daring to think so of herself. After all, she was just a stranger to these lands. Just an ill woman waiting to get better. And the mountains…

Suddenly she spotted Marychna. She was leaving the barn, covering her hair with a shawl to keep them from the rain. She was walking fast and did not mind for the mud one bit: her boots were fully covered with it, but it did not seem to bother her at all. She must have spotted Dorota standing on the porch because she looked up, and slowed down. Her chemise was wet and _sticking to her skin_ , and Dorota for a moment forgot she should greet her.

But Marychna did spot her - and quickly turned around, and went the other way. She disappeared behind the house. Dorota stood there for a moment longer, baffled. There was a strange sting in her chest, and suddenly even the mountains felt strange and distant, as if they were against her. 

Just a strange ill woman on land that’s not her own, what did she expect?

  
  


They ate the breakfast in silence. Henryk was in a bad mood for some reason - perhaps because of the weather - and after the upsetting early morning Dorota did not feel like talking much either. She tried to force herself to eat but she could hardly even swallow some raspberry syrup. She kept looking outside and thinking about rain.

\- I would like to go take a walk today. - she said. - After it stops raining of course.

\- Mhm. What if you-

\- I won’t get sick, dear. I’ll dress appropriately and I’ll even cover my head. I will only take a moment. Remember, the doctor said that it is the mountain air that should help cure me, did he not?

\- I suppose he did. - Henryk replied. - I have some matters to attend to, sadly. Maybe we will go another day. The weather is foul, too.

\- I can go alone. - Dorota said. - Please.

\- Could I ever forbid you anything? - Henryk asked with a mild smile on his face.

“You have forbidden so many things, so many times.” she thought bitterly, but did not say anything as it would be rude, and ungrateful. She had to remember that Henryk only ever had her wellbeing in mind.

\- Go, if you want to, but please be back soon and do not wander off. Mountains can be treacherous.

\- Of course.

They finished the breakfast and she got dressed, making sure to put on something warm. Soon it stopped raining, too, and she decided to go out. She had some trouble putting on the leather boots - she rarely wore them - but she managed somehow, and went in the direction of the main door. She heard voices when passing the kitchen and decided to go in and ask for some directions: the truth was she didn’t really know where to go. She opened the doors and saw that the servants were having breakfast.

\- Oh, sorry. - she said quietly. - I did not want to interrupt you.

\- Oh, it is nothing, my lady. - Aniela said, putting her cup back on the table. - Do you need anything?

\- I wanted to take a walk but I’m not sure where to go.

\- Oh. - the older woman smiled. - I can ask one of the stable boys to show you the nice path on the southern trail, it should be warm and not that muddy.

\- Thank you. There is a lot of mud. - she said, and only then noticed Marychna standing leaning against the wall next to the cupboards. - You’re not eating?

Marychna did not reply, but hanged her head and looked at the floor.

\- Oh, do not pay any mind to this. - Aniela said and stood up. - I will walk with you and we will find the stable boys, if that is alright with you, my lady.

\- Of course. - she replied and they left. Dorota tried to sneakily turn around and look at Marychna, check why is she so mad at her, but Aniela hurried her out of the kitchen and outside.

The skies were still gray, but sun showed its faint face from behind the clouds from time to time, and rain stopped for a longer while. Aniela looked around for the stable boys but they were nowhere to be found.

\- The rascals must have run off somewhere. - the older woman said, shaking her head. - They had quite a day yesterday cleaning the carriage and polishing the saddles, perhaps they needed a break. Good Lord in heavens knows these boys are unused to hard work.

\- Do you know them well?

\- Oh, I know everyone well my lady. - Aniela smiled. - I have to. They are from the village. One is the smith’s son but he is scared of fire, even that in furnace, so his uncle taught him to take care of horses and then his family sent them to serve your husband’s family. The other one is the son of the widow that lives by the church’s graveyard. He is a strange boy but horses listen to him.

\- I see. - Dorota nodded. - Perhaps I should take the walk another day.

\- I can show you the path, I have to wait for Józef to bring more wood so we can start preparing the supper anyway. - the woman replied.

\- Thank you, that is really kind of you. - Dorota returned the smile. The sun has peeked from behind the clouds again. 

Soon they were walking on the southern trail - it was steeper and rocky so the water ran fast when it rained, and did not leave much mud. The rocks were slowly drying in the sun. Grasses were green and most of the trees were already full of leaves, and birds hurried in the air, busy with building nests.

\- You can go up there, my lady - Aniela showed her the path. - Until you reach a great rock that is split nearly in half. Then you should turn around and come back so your husband does not worry you are gone for too long.

\- I see, thank you. Why -

\- Why only up to the rock? Oh, it should take you nearly half an hour to get there, and another half to get back, it is mostly a matter of time. - Aniela smiled again.

\- Thank you again. I shall be home soon.

\- We will all wait. If you are not back in an hour, I shall send Józef to get you.

\- I don’t think that will be necessary, but thank you.

\- What if the bear eats you? - asked Aniela teasingly, but her smile quickly faded when she saw the expression on Dorota’s face. - Oh, Mother Mary forgive me, I did not mean to scare you! There are no bears in this forest!

\- Oh. - Dorota exhaled. - Of course. Well, I should go before it starts to rain.

\- Yes, yes. We were hoping it would storm today but I think the rain went away for good. - Aniela smiled. - The first storm of the spring is a very important moment, and we already made ourselves impatient to celebrate. A, well, I will see you in an hour, my lady. - she turned around and soon disappeared.

The fields around her, still covered in patches of snow in some places, stretched far to the south; there was the forest looming somewhere far in front of her, like a dark gate to the heart of the mountains, and she felt as if it was waiting for her. She continued on the path, breathing in the cold air and thinking how different everything was there than back home. The trees seemed different, the rocks beneath her feet, the flowers in the meadows, the sky, the clouds… So different and yet strangely familiar, as if they were waiting for her, as if they all knew her.

\- What a silly thought! - she said to herself.

She continued walking. The path was getting steeper and steeper, and she felt her joints tire. But she was so lost in thought that she did not notice how far she walked - soon she reached the rock cracked nearly in half. It was on the crossroads where the trail split in two - one path lead into the meadow from which a stream could be heard, and the other ran towards the forest.

Dorota sat on the rock carefully to let her legs rest. It was cold and wet, so she took the fur from her shoulders and put it under her. She looked down: she could see the path coiling, and the blue ribbon of the stream somewhere to the left, and the manor and all its buildings. They seemed very far away. She noticed the skies were darker again, and the sun hid behind the clouds.

She inhaled. The mountain air was sweet on her tongue, like the raspberry syrup. Sitting on the strange rock, feeling the fur with her fingers, she suddenly felt… _Empowered_. Royal! Like a queen on a throne - the mountains her castle!

\- What a silly thought. - she repeated out loud, but it did not feel silly at all. She wondered why she even said it. There was no one to hear it, after all. No one to berate her for her thoughts either. No one to tell her they were silly or ridiculous or childish. Why was she suddenly filling that role? _That_ was the ridiculous thing, not her thoughts.

\- Perhaps I am a queen. - she said, her voice quiet and shy. And yet, these words filled her chest with warmth she rarely felt, and she held her head higher.

Suddenly her wandering hand slipped from the fur into the crack of the rock - there was some water in it, and she quickly pulled the hand out, scared. There was something cold swimming there, too. A leech, she thought, and shivered.

Still, something in her was curious and would not take “leech” for an answer. She carefully put her hand back in the split rock, and caught in her fingers the thing that was lying there. It was cold, and hard, and… round. She pulled it out.

It was a ring. A silver ring.

A silver ring - it was missing the jewel that was put in it, but on the back it had an engraving.

An engraving of a crown.

Another shiver ran through her, but this one wasn’t unpleasant. It was the opposite, and Dorota reveled in it for a moment. 

Then, three things happened:

She put the ring on her finger, feeling another shiver. She thought it might have been a foolish thing to do, but she did not care for it in that moment. It did fit her finger eerily well.

Then, a sudden flash lit the skies and loud thunder echoed through the mountains. The shivers running through her spine were nearly painful, but exquisite.

And then, through the darkened skies, scared by the sound, a great bird flew - it was a stork, stretching its wings far as if to shield the world from the storm.

She squinted and looked closer.

The stork was black.


	5. Warm milk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sudden storm and the black stork scare Dorota - and yet it is thrilling fear, and she delights in it. She must bring the news to the servants - and perhaps not mention too much to Henryk.

Dorota ran. She hasn’t run in a long time - perhaps since she was but a child - but in that moment she ran as fast as she could. The storm that suddenly overtook the mountains, the dark forest behind her, and the black stork cutting through the skies scared her to the core - but it was a thrilling kind of fear, like the one she remembered from her childhood, hearing stories about Baba Yaga and field devils stealing unruly children.

But she ran and paid no mind to the cold nor to the rocky path. The silver ring was cold on her finger and the mischievous friend wind was wild in her hair, trying to unbraid it.

And somehow in all that fear and hurry, in all that sudden panic and pain in her joints, she felt free. Like a child again.

She ran down the steep mountain path and _laughed._

She was still scared, terribly so, but the laughter that broke free from her chest did so on its own command and will, and she could not stop it.

She had to slow down due to the pain and exhaustion, but she was nearly back at the mansion at that point. She tried to fix her hair but to no avail; she quickly gave up and went, panting, to the servants’ chambers.

\- Aniela? - she asked. - Aniela!

The older woman appeared.

\- _Rany boskie_ , might God have mercy, what happened? - she asked, worry painted on her face. - Come sit here, oh poor thing, what happened?

\- The storm, the storm - Dorota did not know what to tell first - The storm started up in the mountains, and I saw a stork-

Suddenly more servants appeared, incredibly curious about the sudden commotion.

\- A stork? Are you sure? - Józef asked, putting down pieces of firewood on the chamber’s floor. - Are you sure?

\- Yes, oh yes, it was a stork. - Dorota said. Aniela handed her a cup of something warm, and she drank absentmindedly. - But it was, and I am not insane, I am truly not, it was _black._

Silence fell. She felt her heart stop for a moment, the anticipation too much for it to handle, like a scared bird that gives up, chased too long by a cat. It must have been a terrible, terrible omen, and she was the bearer of such news… Would they be mad? Would they blame her for that?

\- Black? - Aniela asked and looked at her intensely. - Are you sure, my good lady?

\- Yes. - she nearly whispered, and held onto the warm cup.

\- Oh. - the woman replied. - Oh.

And suddenly, a cheer louder than the storm broke through the chamber. Józef, Aniela, the stable boys, the servant girls, even Marychna in the back of the room, they all cheered and laughed, and smiled and Dorota, and patted each other’s backs in joy. Aniela put her hands on her face and, smiling, exhaled loudly.

\- That is such wonderful news my lady! Such wonderful news!

\- It… is? - Dorota was baffled, but felt the joy of the room seep into her heart as well. A smile appeared on her flushed face.

\- Of course! - Józef said. - Oh, all Saints in heavens rejoice with us! It is such a great sign! We feared no storks would appear at all and we would be doomed, but a black one… It is rare, my lady! A good sign!

\- I see. - Dorota said. - Oh, I was so worried.

\- Black ones are shy and they don’t like us humans much, and when there is a black stork in the village, white ones will go elsewhere! We worried for no reason, all is well. - Aniela added. - My lady, such wonderful news!

\- And a storm! - added one of the stable boys. Dorota could not tell them apart just yet, but she smiled at the one that spoke up. - We will go see to the horses. Do we celebrate tonight? _Ciociu_ , will we? - he asked Aniela, and she laughed.

\- Yes, yes we will! - the older woman replied cheerfully. - Of course we will!

\- I will go get more firewood, then. - Józef said. - And I will bring the barrel from the basement, too.

\- Girls, let us go to the kitchen, we have a celebratory dinner to prepare! - Aniela commanded. - Oh, good lady, let me help you change your clothes and dry your hair.

\- I don’t want to get sick. - Dorota said, and suddenly felt the joy escape her. She realised with all the running and cold, it was very likely she would get sick again, and Henryk…

\- Oh, you won’t, you won’t. Mountain air is good, and lively moving is good too! - Aniela said, and she felt so strangely reassured. Never in her life so far has she heard that she would not get sick.

\- Thank you. - Dorota said quietly, and went with Aniela to change.

Henryk was busy in the study chamber - one Dorota had no access too - and she was glad for it, as she got to have some peace. Aniela was combing and drying her hair, and humming some sweet melody as she went.

Dorota felt tired after the running, and tired after the scare - but she also felt strangely content, satisfied. Free - and reassured that things went well, and the stork and storm alike were good omens, not bad. Her joints hurt, especially her knees, and she felt slightly dizzy, but she paid no mind to it. She did, however, pay attention to the smell that hit her nostrils - sharp, slightly unknown, yet somehow familiar. It took her a moment but she finally realised it was her chemise that smelled like that - it was _sweat._ But not the sticky one she knew from her fevers, that smelled of pain and illness and nightmares, but something knew, something she did not know. She hasn’t run since she was a child, after all. She felt her cheeks burn again.

\- Did I hurt you? - Aniela asked suddenly. - I am doing my best not to pull on your hair, my dear lady, but it is tangled.

\- No, no! - Dorota reassured her. - No, I just… I need to change. I -

\- I will bring your clothes in a moment, do not worry about that. - her voice was warm and kind, and she started humming again. - Your hair is so, so pretty.

\- Is it? - she asked. She agreed with that, somewhere deep in her heart. Her hair was weaker than she'd like it, but it was long and light. The colour was that nearly of straw - darker now, after winter, and cold in its shade instead of golden. More ash than sunlight. Still, she liked it and she always despaired that she could not wear it loose anymore.

\- It is delicate, and has the hue of the silver thistle. Do you know silver thistles, my lady? They're delicate flowers, not as sweet as roses, but pretty in their honesty. Their leaves sting, yes, but the petals are silvery and delicate. They close nearly instantly in the shade and in the evening, but they open to the sun. 

\- They do sound delicate.

\- And yet they are a symbol of strength and endurance! And a good omen, too. 

Dorota closed her eyes, content, and felt… At home.

  
  


It wasn’t until she changed her clothes that she noticed the mysterious silver ring was still on her finger. She knew servants would not notice, but her husband… And he would ask all these tedious questions, and he’d probe, and he’d get mad and he’d accuse her of making up the story with the split rock. Dorota knew it would sound improbable to anyone, let alone Henryk. He was a rational man, down to earth, responsible. Man that did not believe in dreams or fates, tales of spirits wandering the graveyards and crossroads at midnight. He did not like stories all that much at all, or poetry. He’d read the Bible and be content with that. 

Of course, his character was largely the reason why he got successful: he was younger nobility, one that was not so respected, and yet he got very far and made a name for himself, got noticed by noblemen of old coats of arms. After all, he got noticed by Elżbieta Żywiecka, Dorota’s mother - widowed and having only daughters, she had to find good men to marry them, and Henryk appeared on their path nearly like a miracle. If he believed in those, that is.

Under normal circumstance, marrying into newer, lower nobility would not be seen as a miracle, not at all. It would be a misalliance, a certain loss of respectability. But Elżbieta had little choice and little time, and after Dobromir’s - Dorota’s father - untimely and unlucky passing, Henryk was a godsent. He was young, ambitious, healthy, and with both fortune and skill to back his ambition. He was poorer than Żywieccy, of course… At least in the times of their glory. After Dobromir’s death it all would-

\- There you are. - Henryk said, appearing in the doors of the study room. - I heard thunder, and in the mountains it can become quite a wild thing. Are you scared, my dove?

Dorota hid the silver ring in her dress quickly but clumsily, and hoped Henryk did not notice. She thought it was ridiculous to assume she would be scared of something as exquisite as thunder, but in a case her husband noticed her hiding something, it would be best to pretend and drive his attention away from it.

\- Oh, it was so loud! - she said, sitting slowly on the chair. - It has barely started and it is already so loud.

\- I know, I know. - he said warmly, and carressed her head. - There, there. - he added, ruining the neat braid Aniela put her hair in. - Is your hair wet?

\- Oh. Perhaps… - Dorota clasped her hands together so they did not shake. - The fear, husband, it overcomes me and…

\- Of course! - he said and smiled, but took his hand of her forehead a bit too fast. - How the body reacts sometimes, it truly is one of God’s mysteries.

“The God’s mystery is that I walked alone through the mountain path, and I ran, oh I ran wildly, and I was a queen for a moment. Rain and sweat were like a baptism, and you will never understand that.” she thought and felt a small tingle of pride and excitement. Excitement that she had a secret Henryk would never know, something that belonged only to her. And the ring!

\- I am going to the village and to the church, I have an important meeting with the parish priest. - Henryk said. - Hopefully the thunder will pass soon, I would hate for the carriage to get stuck in the mud.

\- Will you be back for dinner? - Dorota asked. She wanted to tell him that servants planned a great celebration because of the first stork and first storm of the spring, but something in her told her not to.

\- I do not know, my dear. I would hope so, but if the priest invites me to join him for his meal, I cannot refuse.

\- Of course. - Dorota said, doing her best to sound sad.

\- Please eat something and do not wait for me, just go to sleep.

\- Of course.

\- But please, please. - Henryk said, and his voice was warm again. - Do eat something, at least a little bit. You’ve hardly eaten anything.

For a moment, Dorota felt a sticky wave of guilt. After all, Henryk had only her wellbeing in mind, and she was being ungrateful with her mysteries.

\- I will do my best, husband. Thank you.

Henryk kissed her cheek and her hand, and left to change for the travel. Dorota sat on the chair, unmoved, for a moment longer.

The first wild wave of thunder passed fast, and the skies were light and hopeful. Henryk left, still not told about the celebration. He would, after all, deem it a foolish superstition, and would forbid Dorota from taking any part in it.

But he has left and he would not be back until late evening, and the servants could not hide nor contain their excitement for the celebration.

\- It is such an important moment, first storm! - Aniela said when Dorota came to the kitchen. - And this one is such a good omen.

\- Why? - Dorota asked, drinking the raspberry syrup. With Henryk around she would not be able to just sit in the kitchen and chat with the servants, but when he was away she was the one with all the power to decide. A lady in the mansion.

\- See, there are leaves on the trees already. - Aniela explained while cutting big pieces of bread. - When lighting strikes over the land that is already green, that means the harvest will be good!

\- Yes, yes. - added Józef, for the third time bringing firewood. - And it started in the south, too, and that means harvest will be dry.

\- Dry?

\- Unbothered by rains or hail, that is, and it will not rot when we cut it down.

\- I see. How do you know that, just because of the storm?

\- Oh, it is old, old knowledge. Every _dziad_ in the village knows this, it is passed down from our ancestors, and those omens always come true. - Aniela said.

\- Wisdom of the people. - Józef added.

\- My husband would say it is superstition. - Dorota said, and silence fell on the kitchen. She looked up and saw that the servants tried to look unmoved even though they must have been offended. Still, they would not dare ever say that. - But I do not agree. - she added, putting down the cup. - I believe this. Perhaps this year I will be allowed to witness it come true, too.

Aniela’s face lit up and there was a shadow of a smile underneath Józef’s thick mustache. The servant girls giggled and went back to stirring the food in the pots.

\- Are you sure, my good lady, that you want to accompany us here? You will smell like boiled peas and lard. - Aniela said, nearly laughing. - It is not the best perfume for a lady.

\- I would love to sit in your company and learn some more about the wisdom of the people. - Dorota replied, her voice quiet and shy. She felt her cheeks get red again.

\- Oh, that is truly a privilege for us! - Aniela said.

A mocking sigh was suddenly heard in the kitchen, and Dorota realised Marychna was standing there, quiet up to that moment.

\- Girl, you better behave yourself or so help me God in heavens. - Aniela snapped. - Pay no mind to her, my lady.

Dorota felt even more shame and guilt. Why was the girl so mad at her?

\- Why-

\- Pay no mind, my lady. - Aniela repeated. - And you, girl, go air the chambers and do not show your face here until you think well about what you did.

Marychna left quickly, stomping her feet on the wooden floors of the mansion.

\- What happened? - Dorota asked. The older woman sighed.

\- She behaves foolishly so often, my lady. And now that she is hungry and unhappy, she does things she did not think through. Please, forgive her.

\- Hungry? - she asked instead. She did notice that Marychna did not eat anything in the morning.

\- Yes. - Aniela replied carefully. - Your husband forbid her from eating today.

\- My husband… My husband? Eating? I don’t understand. - Dorota was confused and painfully surprised. - Why?

\- Because of the yesterday, my lady. Of course, he is right in his decision, he is a wise man. - Aniela said and nearly managed to sound genuine. Genuine enough to fool generations of noblemen, but not Dorota.

\- Yesterday?

\- Your slippers, my lady. - Aniela explained. - They were all muddy and your husband punished Marychna for calling upon you to join her in the barn.

\- I did not- I did… That is not what happened. - Dorota said, suddenly unable to breathe. - It was my decision to go.

\- That is not… My lady, that is not for me to decide, or even hear…. - Aniela said quietly. - It was the lord’s command and so we obeyed.

\- I wanted to go to the stupid barn! I, on my own! - Dorota stood up and raised her voice. It was shaky and she could not breathe. - It was me!

\- My good lady, please. - there was fear in Aniela’s eyes. - Please sit down!

\- No, no! - Dorota shouted. She felt betrayed. One friend she managed to make, a friend that brought her flowers, that treated her not like a fragile doll but a human of flesh and bone, and Henryk ruined it! Of course Marychna was mad!

\- Please, my good lady. - she felt strong hands on her shoulders. - Sit down. - Józef’s voice was calm and warm, and it helped ground her. She sat down, her breath still uneven.

\- That is unfair, unfair, unfair. - she repeated. - Cruel!

None of the servants said anything - they had no right to question the punishment given by Henryk.

\- Call upon her right now. - Dorota exclaimed. - Now!

One of the servant girls ran out of the room, and soon came back with Marychna. The girl had fear on her stubborn face and did not dare look at Dorota.

\- Is it true? Did my husband forbid you to eat?

\- Yes, my lady. - Marychna replied quietly and bitterly.

\- For the mud on my slippers? For the cow?

\- Your slippers are clean, my lady, I scrubbed them all morning. - Marychna said, still not looking up.

\- Oh goodness. - Dorota whispered and felt all strength leave her body. - That… I… It was not-

\- My lady, your husband is a wise and just man, and he had every right to-

\- No, Aniela, no! Unfair, unfair, unfair! - Dorota snapped again, and her voice was breaking. - I am so so sorry! - she said and stood up again.

The kitchen was silent. Never have they heard apologies from the mouth of nobility.

They simply did not know what to say or do.

\- Marychna, please. Here. Sit. - Dorota managed to say, showing the girl her chair. - Please give her something to eat, she is so pale. - she added, and shakily went in the direction of the door. - I will go to my room. Eat something.

\- But your husband, my lady. - Aniela started quietly.

\- He is not here! I am the lady, am I not?! And I command you to eat! You must eat! - her tongue did not obey her and she had trouble speaking. - Eat! - she exclaimed for the last time and left the kitchen as fast as she could.

  
\- I will go after her. - Aniela said. - She is not well… Goodness, poor bird, emotions nearly drowned her. - she added.

\- I did not think she was capable of shouting. - Józef said with a slight note of surprise in his voice, or perhaps even being impressed. - Go, Aniela, but do not panic too much. She will be alright.

\- I hope so. - said Marychna, much quieter than ever.

\- The quiet lady shouts and the loud servant girl whispers, what a time to be alive! - Aniela added. - You, be grateful and eat something. I will go see to her.

\- Aniela, please assure her it is fine. - Józef said, care in his voice. - She must be shaken and ashamed now. You know that nobles think emotions are for peasants.

\- Oh, I do, I do.

Aniela knocked on the door leading to Dorota’s private chamber.

\- No! - Dorota wailed. - I want to be alone!

\- Please, my good lady. - Aniela said calmly. - I brought some warm milk, it will make you feel better.

There was a moment of silence, and then the door opened. Dorota stood there, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and her hair in disarray.

\- Thank you. - she whispered, her voice rough after shouting and crying.

\- My lady. - Aniela said. - We are very grateful for your mercy. It was such a kind thing to do.

\- Kind? - Dorota asked, back turned to Aniela. She was looking through the window at the falling rain. The storm did not return, but the rain did. - It was not kind. It was fair.

\- You have a good heart, my lady. There is no shame in that. - Aniela said.

There was silence. Dorota tried not to cry again. No one ever told her that her kindness wasn’t foolish or naive. Her father did, when she was a child, yes, but then-

\- Marychna is very grateful. We all are. Tonight we shall celebrate and rejoice, and it means the world that she can join us and her punishment is done.

\- Yes. - Dorota said. - Yes. She was… Mad at me. I did not know why.

\- A, she was not mad at you, my good lady. She was mad at the punishment, she’s a proud girl. We are simple people, but we have our pride. Sometimes difficult to swallow.

\- How embarrassing. - Dorota managed to get out. - Such an outburst. You must think me insane.

\- Insane, my good lady? Because you have a heart? Because you let your emotions out? No, no. It was… unexpected, yes. But not embarrassing.

Dorota did not reply, but felt slightly better. Perhaps the warm milk truly did help.

\- I hope you will join us for the celebration? I know it is not in the best taste for a lady to dine with her servants, but tonight is very important. You were the bearer of these wonderful news and we would love to have you join us.

\- Perhaps. Thank you. I feel better now.

\- We would all love to have you, my good lady. It is a joyous evening, it is no use sitting in your chamber alone. Come join us. We will have music!

Dorota felt her heart become lighter again. She thanked the older woman and, after being left alone, exhaled with sudden and unknown relief. For the first time she was not deemed insane after such an outburst - moreover, she was invited to join them!

And there will be music! 

She smiled and sat in front of the mirror to fix her braid.


	6. Dance your young hearts out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night falls and the servants in the manor celebrate. So does Dorota, with a cup of young wine in her hand, and newly found joys in her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realise the song I used might not be as old as to be that plausible in the times of the tale, but hey - it is a joyful highlander song and it fits the celebration. If you are curious, you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAwE48tzQAA
> 
> is playing with a cat a metaphor? maybe! who knows!

When Dorota was a little girl, she would observe her mother preparing for church. They would sit in Elżbieta’s private chamber - little Dorota on the bed, surrounded by pillows filled with goose feathers and soft white blankets of koronka, and her mother in front of the mirror - and carefully repeat all the steps, every Sunday. Elżbieta was a modest lady, despite her fortune and noble name, and she only ever allowed herself ornament when it was time to go to church. Even then it was not much - she was a God fearing woman and she believed it would be vain and blasphemous to wear rich robes to mass - “Riches we have we should give onto the altar and our Lord and Saviour, and it would be a great sin to come into the temple of our Father adorned with more gold than the holy altar” she would say, and make sure little Dorota nodded attentively.

Now Dorota was sitting in front of the mirror, so grown up, trying to find in her reflection any traces of that little curious girl so enchanted with her mother’s routine. She always found most peace and celebration in that Sunday preparation and not in the mass that followed - for most of her life it caused her shame as she believed it to be a sin of vanity, yet she was more entranced by the rituals of women in their private chambers than loud echoing words of a preacher in a cold and lonesome church.

Her mother would start by washing her face: fresh water in a small wooden bowl would always be ready upon the table, prepared by a servant girl. In season there were little blue petals of cornflowers floating in the water - Dorota never asked why and her mother never said a word about them, so to that day she had no clue why. And yet, for all the years to follow, she’d dream of adding cornflowers to her own bowl of water, but they did not grow anywhere close to Henryk’s family home and she would never dare ask anyone where else to find them. That evening, however, Dorota was too excited about the upcoming celebration to worry about cornflowers. She washed her face like her mother always would.

It was a pretty face: delicate and sweet. Her chin was perhaps a bit too long, a trait she inherited from her father - she always envied her sisters who had full and oval faces after their mother. And perhaps her eyes, timid grayness like that of the rain, were set too far from each other, and maybe too deep. And perhaps her ears were a bit too small, nearly like that of some little forest creature, and yet they stuck out a bit too much. 

Or at least that was what she thought.

Anyone hardly ever commented upon her looks - Dorota was her own judge, and twofold harsher for it. 

She did not hate her face - she resembled her father too much to do that, and she believed she carried in her likeness endless traits inherited from generations of people in her family, people whose love allowed her to exist - she deemed it ungrateful to hate the face that was their face, too, after all. She envied other women sometimes, of course: she thought herself ordinary and even though from day to day she found great joy in her modesty and mild charm, sometimes she would be overcome with a strong and wild desire to be… Different. She once saw a woman in the market, old enough to be her own mother perhaps: and that woman’s hair, falling from under the shawl, was fiery red. It left Dorota shaken for days, somehow - so wild and powerful was that colour and so enchanting the woman; it was a shame she had no one to share that impression with, as Henryk, whom she was already promised to, would deem it foolish.

Next, her mother would unbraid her hair: she always wore it covered, always wore a cap or podwika - Dorota only saw her mother’s hair during those Sunday moments of preparation and sometimes during night, when nightmares became too much and the little girl would crawl, sobbing, into her parents’ bed. Mother’s hair was loosely braided then and smelled like feathers and evening.

Dorota unbraided her hair and combed it carefully - she felt each strand on her fingertips, and let the comb slowly caress and pass through their entire length. She loved her hair and that evening even more so, thinking of silver thistles that open up to the dawn’s sun and dew. Each time the comb reached the very tips of her hair, she could notice new ones that fell out - but she was bitterly used to that by then, and accepted it quietly and humbly. Perhaps this affliction and this weakness were a trial of some sort. One that has a happy ending, a dawn after long and tiresome night, a silver lining, some sort of reward that awaits… Or perhaps she was just weak and nothing more.

Or at least that was what she thought.

Then her mother would dampen her hair with a green concoction of squeaky wild horsetail, boiled and left to cool - always ready in a tin jug just beside the wooden water bowl - and carefully, lovingly, braid it again.

Dorota braided her hair again, and felt a strange sting when she wished, just for a short moment, it would be Aniela braiding her hair.

Then her mother would put on her earrings - gold and pearl, they were, and her mother’s greatest pride. It was a gift from Dobromir on the day of their wedding, gift that he brought along amber and salt from his travels in the service of the King.

Dorota’s earrings were silver and much smaller: she chose them herself when a jeweller arrived to town and Henryk was eager to buy his newlywed wife some trinket or gift. He did it to please Dorota, yes, but he did it in the company of Duke’s men, bragging loudly about his fortune and incredibly blessed marriage to a girl from such a renowned old family as Żywieccy.

Lastly, her mother would lightly pinch her cheeks to add them colour: usually she’d deem blushing a foolish and girly affair, but she feared looking old and lifeless in the church. She was modest and humble - but she was terribly afraid of being seen as a ghost of her past lively self.

Dorota could not pinch her cheeks - the red blotches would look bad on her skin, already so prone to burning from shame. Her frequent fevers gave her blush enough, too.

She looked at herself for the last time, ready for the celebration. She looked especially pretty that evening, she thought so herself, and for a moment she wished her husband would see her. He’d kiss her hands and smile, and tell her she is a bird of paradise, and he - the luckiest man in the entire Rzeczpospolita.

And yet some part of her was glad he was away - this celebration would be another secret that belonged only to her. Her, the one that brought storms and storks, the messenger of such wonderful news! For the first time in so long she truly felt important, and, even if vain, the feeling was sweet like raspberry syrup.

She stood up, feeling filled with energy, and just before she left to join the servants, she pulled out the silver ring from her dress and put it on her finger. It was cold like the rain.

The corridor of the manor was dark, and the only light was seeping through the cracks of the heavy wooden door of the kitchen. Everyone was there already and all the candles were brought there, too, so the rest of the manor was already swallowed by dusk. Dorota could hear the excited voices coming from the kitchen. The air was sweet and warm: it smelled of confiture and freshly baked bread and apple pie. She stopped for a second, embraced by the darkness and sweet smells, and closed her eyes. She wanted to soak it all in, the smells and the voices, the excitement and the celebration. She could not remember the last time she felt like this.

She heard something move far in front of her and soon the door leading outside opened slowly, and for a second her heart stopped. “Henryk is back so soon”, she thought, “all is ruined.” A wave of guilt followed, again, as she knew she should not be unhappy to see her own husband.

The door opened, letting in the purple, faint light of dusk from outside, and cold air. And Marychna stood there, her hair loose and kissed by the wind, and her eyes shining in the dark like that of a cat. And after Dorota looked closer and her eyes got used to the dark, she noticed Marychna actually cradled a fat gray cat in her arms.

Dorota did not know what to say. She was scared of the silence as much as she was terrified of saying the wrong thing.

\- You have not met Chaber yet, have you? - asked Marychna and smiled. The tension Dorota feared so much disappeared in an instant, chased away by the honest joy in the servant girl’s voice.

\- Oh, no, I- I don’t think I have. - she replied faintly.

Marychna came closer, bouncing the fat cat in her arms as if it was a child.

\- Chaber, you rascal, meet lady Dorota. - she said and lifted him a bit so he was closer to Dorota’s face. The cat looked at her and she noticed his eyes must be blue in the light. He yawned.

\- He’s so sweet. - Dorota said. - Can I… pet him?

\- A, of course! - Marychna said and lit up. - Scratch his chin, he likes that a lot.

\- I’ve never… I’ve never touched a cat. - Dorota said.

\- No? How? How is that even possible? - the girl asked and giggled, slowly guiding Dorota’s hand underneath the cat’s chin. - Cats are everywhere! Yes, there, there. - she added. A shiver ran down Dorota's spine.

\- He’s so soft. - Dorota said and giggled too, surprising herself. She scratched the cat and so did Marychna, and she could feel her fingers against hers, and the cat purred delightfully.

\- He’s a mischievous little thing, that’s what he is. - Marychna said and her voice was warm. - Aniela never lets me take him into the kitchen but she is in such a good mood tonight I am sure she will not mind. - she bounced the cat in her arms again. - Will you be good, Chaber? Maybe _ciocia_ Aniela will give you some cream if you behave!

The cat meowed and stretched out his legs, which were now sticking comically out from Marychna’s embrace. He must have not liked his new position because his tail started batting wildly in all directions, and the girl put him down on the floor. He sat down and started licking his tail.

\- We never kept cats, they only ever were in barns and the peasants’ houses. - Dorota said. - I would sometimes hear them fight in the night.

\- O, yes, they can make such a hell! - Marychna said and pushed open the kitchen door. Chaber ran into the kitchen fast as lighting; it surprised Dorota given how incredibly fat he was.

\- Let us go inside, everyone is there already. - the servant girl said and opened the door more, letting Dorota go in first.

The kitchen was filled with light and laughter, voices and smells. Aniela smiled widely when they walked in, and quickly poured some wine into their cups.

\- It is just a bit, my good lady. - the older woman reassured her. - And it is young wine, it won’t upset your nerves.

\- Thank you. - Dorota smiled taking the cup. - Thank you.

\- Tonight we rejoice! Spring has fully come and it has blessed us with good omens. - Józef said. He was holding an old fiddle, one that Dorota only ever saw the peasants use. The wood was worn and scratched but still visibly ornamental: there was a star carved into it, the same that nearly all cottages in Podhale had, and nearly of the art that highlanders made. Dorota saw it a couple of times already and she grew fond of the motif, even though she was a stranger in the mountains and so very new to all of this.

\- I’m really glad I can join you. - Dorota said. - And I’m glad about the stork, and the storm, and the- I’m-I’m glad. Thank you. - she wasn’t really sure what to say.

\- Come and sit! - Marychna said and patted the fur on the bench next to her, showing Dorota where to sit. But someone was faster: Chaber, thinking Marychna was calling him, jumped on the bench and quickly lied down, purring.

Józef laughed so loud, the wine in the cups on the table seemed to move.

\- Sit here instead, good lady. - he said, gesturing towards a chair which has its back covered with a koronka overlay. - At least you won’t get cat hair on your dress.

\- The cat hair will be everywhere. - Aniela sighed while putting currant confiture in little bowls.- And I already know he will get into the basement and break all the eggs again.

\- He did not do it on purpose! - Marychna said, petting the cat with both hands. - He’s just a little… Clumsy. Aren’t you clumsy, Chaber?

\- He’s fat, that’s what he is. - Aniela replied.

\- And all the better for it. - Marychna giggled, and looked at Dorota. - He’s sweet, is he not?

\- He is, he is. - she replied, smiling as well. The wine made her feel a bit hotter and it was easier to smile without fearing that she shouldn’t.

\- I don’t know how he got so fat. - one of the stable boys said. - I have never seen him hunt, not even one mouse!

\- I think I’ve seen him run from a baby forest marten last week. - added the other stable boy pensively. - Or maybe it was a mole.

\- A mole? Chasing a cat? - Józef asked, pitching the fiddle. - You dreamed that, boy?

\- I don’t think I did. - huffed the boy. - It must have been a baby marten then.

\- He _wuns_ fast, that he does! - added a servant girl, her mouth filled with confiture and bread so much that they could barely understand what she was saying. - He can _outwun_ Kaśka, _weasily_!

\- Is it such a feat to outrun a goose, really? - Aniela asked, sitting down next to the furnace. She turned her back to the warmth.

\- Kaśka is really fast. - one of the boys said. - She’ll outrun anyone.

\- She bit me on the butt yesterday. - the other boy said.

Everyone laughed and one servant girl even spit out some of the wine she was drinking - but Aniela wasn’t laughing.

\- Janek! - she scolded him. - What matters are you bringing up in front of the lady! Apologize!

\- I’m sorry, _ciociu_. I’m sorry, lady Dorota. - he said timidly. - But she did _really_ bite me.

\- Janek! - Aniela sighed loudly and wanted to say something, but Dorota was faster.

\- Oh, it is fine, it is fine. - she turned to the boy. - Did it hurt? I have never been bitten by a goose.

\- A, it did, it did! - Janek laughed. - Do not walk behind the apiary, my lady, that is where Kaśka rules and she will bite any butt, noble or not.

\- Janek, _rany boskie!_ \- Aniela shouted and hit him with the rag she was holding. - You foolish boy!

But everyone was laughing at that point, Dorota included.

  
  


After they ate, it was time for tales and music. Dorota felt slightly dizzy after the wine but she did not feel nauseous at all: she ate more than in two past weeks combined. Both Aniela and Marychna made sure her plate was always full, and she was in such good spirits that her appetite was better than ever. 

\- I want to dance! - exclaimed one servant girl, her face all wine-blush and joy. - Józef, _ujku_ , play the fiddle, we will sing and we will dance!

\- Yes, yes, let us dance! - Marychna stood up so fast she hardly caught her balance. - Let us sing and dance!

The gardener laughed and looked at Aniela. She sighed, shook her head, but then clapped her hands.

\- Go, girls, go! It is a night of celebration, after all, you wild biesy, you! Dance your young hearts out.

And so Józef played the fiddle, and it was as fast and joyous melody. Dorota’s heart started beating faster, so exciting was the music, so fast and new, and so charming! It sounded like it was the mad spirit of the mountains charmed into the fiddle.

All the servant girls stood up, laughing, and grabbed each other’s hands. The started spinning, and stomping their feet, and clapping their hands, and threw their heads back in youthful laughter, a chaos of skirts and braids and flowery shawls. Dorota feared the wooden floor would give in, so wildly they jumped and danced! She has never seen people dance like this, and never so close, and even though she was sitting in her chair in the corner, the joy and power of their dancing was contagious. They all looked so youthful, even though the truth was that Dorota was barely older than them. By five springs, perhaps, and not more.

Soon, the girls started singing in unison - a folk song Dorota has never heard, but loved instantly. She could not understand everything, as it was sung with their mountain melody and mountain words, but what she understood she took great pleasure in.

_ Hej przez rajcarskie pola leci sarna! _

_ Hej nóskami przebiero boby zarła! _

_ Jo by tes tak przebierała kiebyk taki nóski miała, _

_ Hej jak ta sarna ,jak ta sarna! _

_ Hej z kamienia na kamień skace sarna! _

_ Hej dumno swej urody łeb zadarła! _

_ Jo by tes tak zadzierała kiebyk te urode miała, _

_ Hej jak ta sarna, jak ta sarna! _

And then the girls nearly collapsed on the benches, exhausted. They giggled all the time and held each other’s hands, and fixed each other’s braids with laughter and song on their mouth. Dorota felt something strange in her chest - it was a sweet feeling, but unknown, and she did not know what to do about it.

\- Oh, to be a doe in a forest! - Marychna said. - Not having to ever work at all!

\- Not in the field, not in the kitchen!

\- Not in the garden, not in the orchard!

And all the girls giggled again. Aniela poured some more wine into Dorota’s cup.

\- Are you feeling unwell, my good lady? - there was concern in her voice.

\- Oh, I feel better than ever. - Dorota replied shyly. - It is all so very new and exciting.

\- Oh, my heart swells, then! - Aniela smiled. - Forgive the girls, they are young and wild, and had too much wine.

\- No, no! It is all well and I am so happy they are having fun! - Dorota said. - Were I not this weak, I would have danced myself.

\- A, weak, my lady! You are not weak! You will see, the mountain air will make you much stronger soon and you will not have to worry. And we will all dance! - Aniela laughed and squeezed Dorota’s hand. - I am glad that you ate, my good lady, and that you are enjoying this evening of simple people’s celebration.

\- It is like a dream! - Dorota said. Perhaps she would not have say such a thing out loud under normal circumstance, but in that moment she has had some wine and her mood was better than ever, and she cared little for saying the wrong thing.

Józef started telling some old tale: everyone - other than Dorota - knew it by heart by then, but they still enjoyed it immensely. They would interrupt the old man from time to time with questions or with their own humourous additions to the tale. He would laugh, fat Chaber on his lap, and shush them to continue the story. They were all so busy, no one even noticed that one of the stable boys sneaked out of the kitchen.

Dorota sat there, utterly enchanted, and felt like a child again. Everything was so colourful and curious, and she wished in her heart that night would never end.

But all things end, and so would the celebration: Józef was nearly done with his tale, and some of the servant girls were slowly dozing off on the benches.

Then suddenly, there was a knock on the window. Aniela got startled and put her hands to her chest.

\- Good God, what was that?

And then another knock. And another!

\- Who is playing games? Is it Jasiek again? - she asked, her brows furrowed. - Boy, you will be the death of me!

Before she could even finish speaking, the other window opened and a dark thing jumped in! The thing stood up and spread his arms, and shouted:

\- Ta-da! Spring has come!

It was Jasiek, the other stable boy; when the sudden surprise wore off, they all noticed he was wearing a black cape made of some rags that nearly looked like feathers, and on his face he had a red, wooden beak.

\- Oh, a stork! - Marychna said and started laughing wildly, holding her belly. - A stork!

\- Spring has come! - the stork repeated, trying not to laugh.

\- Jasiek, by God! - Aniela said but did not manage to contain her laughter. - You scared us!

\- What are you, _ciociu_ , scared of a stork? - Jasiek stuck his tongue out. - You should learn from our lady Dorota who brought us the news! She did not get scared!

Jasiek got hit with a rag, and Janek laughed at him twofold stronger than he usually would.

\- _Ciocia bije bociana, ratunku, ciocia bije bociana!_ \- Jasiek howled and nearly fell down with laughter, trying to escape the rag.

Dorota did not know if she has ever laughed this hard: perhaps never, but she paid no mind to it in that moment. She laughed and laughed, and felt her soul fill with new unknown joy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second, shorter part of the celebration I decided to put in another chapter: it is a bit darker, and does not fit the joyful mood so well. It will be a tale of the witch in the woods, and some rambling about the strange (gay) dreams that came to Dorota after hearing it...


	7. Daring dreams and moonless nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spring celebration nears its end: strange tales are told and dark wine is drunk, and then the most thrilling dreams haunt Dorota. Or perhaps she would rather not dream at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folk catholicism, erotic dreams, a budding understanding of one's desires - what more could you want?
> 
> also, a slight warning for a brief mention of a hanging.

It was late: midnight perhaps, or even later than that. The moon was high up in the sky, overlooking the manor and the barns, and the _czworaki_ , and the orchard. Usually everyone would be long asleep by that time. After all, chickens woke early and needed to be tended to, and the cows, and the horses — and the field as well. There were prayers to be said and water from the well to be brought in to the house in heavy buckets. 

But not that night, no — that night was different. A celebration of the true coming of spring and of all the good omens they have been blessed with. 

It was late and the night itself was strange. Song and laughter came from the kitchen where they all sat, and the night took it hungrily in. Good, perhaps, that the celebrating company did not look out of the windows too often, focused instead of food and drink and tales.

Janek and Jasiek were commanded to go to sleep but they were clearly stalling — even though nearly asleep, the boys were stubborn and way too curious about the tales the grown-ups were telling to simply go to bed. As the hour was late, the stories changed from joyful and mischievous to these slightly darker: stories of various ghosts, _biesy_ , _upiory_ , strange and evil creatures lurking in the ravines and haunting the crossroads.

Dorota was sleepy but in this strangely nice and heavy way, comforting: this kind of sleepiness when you know there is a warm bed waiting for you and nothing to worry about in the morning. Dorota, it has to be mentioned, had way too much wine as well.

She could not remember the last time she was drunk — if if she ever has, truly. She could recall all the times when wine made her nauseous, yes, or when it would make her feel weak, if it was the wine’s fault of course, but she could not really recall feeling… this way. She felt heavy and slow, yet it was comfortable and comforting. Funny things made her laugh more — sadder tales made her tear up much easier, too. She felt her cheeks go red but it did not feel wrong, it did not feel like shame or embarrassment. She cared less for whether it was appropriate to laugh loud or make faces, whether it was appropriate to eat with her hands, whether it was appropriate to sneak in nearly unlady-like jokes to the amazement of the servants, whether it was appropriate to look for just a second longer than usual at the girls resting on the benches, blushed with laughter and wine, their braids in disarray and their skirts were hitched up messily and— 

\- What are you thinking about, good lady? - asked Marychna suddenly, chin propped up on her hand. She was swaying slightly from side to side in her chair, and humming some folk tune.

\- Oh, nothing. I am simply glad. - Dorota replied and smiled at the girl. 

\- And so am I! - said Marychna and returned the smile, and suddenly grabbed Dorota’s hand. The girl’s hands were small but strong, used to hard work — but they were not unpleasant to touch, and her skin was nicely warm. - I am so glad, my lady, that you are happy. You look so much more alive. - she said and squeezed her hand. 

There was a moment of silence as Dorota did not know what to say or what to do, or where to look — but suddenly Chaber came back to the room and jumped vigorously on Dorota’s lap, and their hands were separated by the fat and purring cat. 

\- Please tell me you weren’t breaking any eggs! - Marychna said, laughing. It came so naturally to her that she did not think twice about it, or even at all. However, Dorota needed a short moment to focus on something else. 

\- If I find one broken egg, girl, I swear to God in heavens I will make you scrub the church’s floor for Good Sunday all on your own. - Aniela said, but there was not even an ounce of anger in her voice. She was sitting on the wooden chair and embroidering a handkerchief slowly, more as having something to do with her hands than any creative effort: it was late and they all had quite a lot of wine already, and she kept tangling the thread. 

\- He’ll be good, _ciociu_ , don’t worry.

\- And you, Janek! Jasiek! To bed! - Aniela commanded. The boys got up, as slowly as they could, and made their way to the door, moving slower than snails after rain. 

\- Will you tell us a story, _ciociu_? - one of the servant girls asked suddenly.

Aniela furrowed her eyebrows and pretended to resist for a moment, but then she gave in and started the story. Everyone knew Aniela was great at telling tales — but only when the mood was right and wine was on the table, and only when there were no lords or ladies or children around. She would make an exception for Dorota, of course, but only for her. Aniela’s stories were always about something dark and lurking, something evil and puzzling. They were always cautionary tales, of course, and the moral would always be that the key to be safe from evil is to pray, go to church, be humble and hard-working.

Yet, no one really liked the stories for their moral, no. 

They were thrilling and mysterious, and allowed for the imagination and curiosity alike to run wild.

So Aniela started to tell the story, as they all sat around her. No one noticed that Jasiek and Janek hid between the cupboard and the stove — besides Chaber, perhaps.

\- It was early spring, like now, late Good Friday. Before Good Lord’s resurrection all evil forces were that much stronger, without his careful eye watching over us. Who was smart would stay at home and pray, and get ready for the Paschal Vigil. But there were people whose hearts were ruled by great curiosity, and they would go out into the night and seek answers to questions that no soul should dare ask. - Aniela took a sip of wine and looked at all those around her. - And so was the case for the miller’s son.

The moon was hidden behind the clouds and gave no light at all, in holy mourning as all of the creation. The sky wept with dew for the wound in the side and flowers did not dare to bloom yet, in grief for the crown of thorns. And all the faithful were in their houses, and all of them were fasting, all but the miller’s son. He was a proud and selfish boy, and he went to the tavern even though his mother begged him not to. His father was asleep, taken with illness. But no amount of mother’s honest tears would stop the boy from his foolishness. So he went to the tavern and he got drunk, even though the tavern-keeper refused to sell him beer. But the boy was so loud and so demanding that the poor man made a sign of the cross and poured for him, and asked the Holy Virgin to forgive him for this leniency. Once the boy was too drunk and too tired, he decided to head back home and sleep through all the Paschal preparations. But he was stubborn and reckless, and he took the shorter road, even though everyone knew bad things roamed there, and the crossroads with the dead tree were an unholy spot. So he went, stumbling and proud, and stopped by the tree. Something was shining in the dark: a pair of cunning and wild eyes, as if those of a wolf. “Who’s there?” he called out but there was no reply. “Who’s there?” he asked for the second time. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” he exclaimed for the third time and a silhouette formed out of the dark. It was a man but not-man, as he had hooves as that of a goat and teeth sharp and big like a dog. His eyes were yellow like the candle-flame and he smelled of burning hair and rotten cabbage. Besides him stood a horse of royal blood and grand posture. “Do not ask who I am as it does not matter, better tell me who you are and what you want!” the devil-man said and grinned. “I do not want anything, just to get home,” the boy replied taking a step back. He nearly fell and devil-man’s eyes glimmered in the dark. “You must want something, do tell! I have great power and I can make you a wealthy and powerful man!” the devil-man teased. “I do not want anything!” the boy said. And it would have been wise to run then, but the boy didn’t: he was curious and greedy. And before the devil asked for the third time, the boy gave in for the first time. “I want the Lord’s daughter to fall in love with me: she is meant for the convent but I desire her with a burning passion.” And the devil smiled and said “Go to the church and break off a finger from a holy figure. Come back here and bury it at the crossroads, and when the girl’s carriage drives over it as she goes to the Paschal Vigil, stand in the direction it points at: she will fall madly in love with you, and she will ache with lust. Go now, and I will wait. Take my horse and you will be much faster and no one will see you” And so the boy gave in the second time, and got on the horse, and went to the church, and committed the terrible act. As he went back to the crossroads, the devil was sitting on a rock and smoking a pipe. “Go on, bury it.” And the boy did and his head was full of sinful thoughts about the rich and pretty girl. And when he wanted to go, the devil called out to him for the last time. “Repay me somehow, boy, for my advice! I am weary and hungry and I know you have bread with you: share some with me.” And the boy did not think twice as it was a low price to pay, and he extended his hand with a piece of white bread on it. And the devil’s eyes burned, and he grinned, and he spat the holy bread! And thus the boy gave in the third time, and when he realised what he has done, the rooster crowed. The boy remembered the story of Saint Peter and ran home, praying under his breath and crying. But soon his sinful desires took over, and he went to the crossroads as the Lord’s men were going to the Vigil the next eve. And he stood where the finger pointed, and as the Lord’s carriage drove past, he saw the princess inside. And she looked at him, and her eyes widened, and she suddenly got up, and pointed her little finger at him: “It is him, father, it is him! He was the one that stole your horse! I saw him through my chamber’s window!” 

And three days did not pass as they hanged the miller’s son, and as his feet dangled from the tree at the crossroads, the devil laughed and drove off to hell.

Aniela looked up at the fascinated yet terrified expressions of those around. Janek and Jasiek were shivering by the stove, and not from the cold. Dorota was speechless and suddenly pale. A thousand thoughts rushed through her mind, and she could swear she smelled the burning hair and the cabbage, and the church, and the damp earth. She shook her head.

\- Enough, enough. - Aniela said suddenly and stood up. - Let us clean this up a bit and go to beds. We will clean the rest tomorrow morning, the lord is not coming back before noon anyway, I’m sure.

\- Yes, yes, it is time to go to sleep. - Józef nodded and got up. - Time to sleep. - and he yawned, loud as only certain older men can yawn, and it reminded Dorota of her father for a moment. 

  
  


The servant girls stalled for a moment longer, trying to sneak away some leftover wine. Aniela pretended to be very busy with fixing the shawls and furs on the benches so she would not see it. Dorota picked up Chaber from her lap and handed him to Marychna, whose cheeks were just as pale as her own. 

\- What a story, no? - she whispered. - How will I sleep, my good lady, how will I sleep! 

\- Thank God it is not real. - Dorota answered, suddenly feeling way too much as if she was Henryk, with his skepticism and harsh judgment.

\- O, I do not know, my lady. If witches are real, and the devil himself is, and the spirits of the deal, why would be unlikely for them to meddle in our matters? - the girl asked, petting the cat absentmindedly. 

\- Witches? - Dorota asked. She wanted to quote her father, once again, but Marychna was faster.

\- Yes, there is one living in the dark forest below the mountain, high up. They say you can see her on a dark night like tonight, if you look hard enough. She is tall and her hair is wild as snakes, and if she looks at you-

\- Marychna, you foolish girl! Telling such nonsense to our lady! - Aniela scolded her. - Nonsense! My lady, please forgive this creature, she had too much wine.

\- How is my story any different from yours?!- Marychna stomped her feet, scaring away the cat. - This is unfair! 

\- My story is very different and you know it! Bed time, now! - she exclaimed and there was no use arguing. 

Dorota went to the bedroom, and she stepped lighter than ever, as if not to wake up some sleeping in the corners evil. She was thrilled but uneasy: she rarely experienced such feelings and rarely heard such stories, as Henryk would always make sure she is spared from anything that could upset her. 

She undressed and put on her sleeping gown, and unbraided her hair. And perhaps it was the wine or the joy of the night, but she did not braid it back again but let it fully loose. She laid down in the middle of the bed, daringly taking up space meant for the husband. The covers were pleasantly cool against her skin and the pillows were really soft underneath her heavy, slightly spinning head. And perhaps it was the wine or the joy of the night, but she forgot for say her evening prayer.

Sadly, sleep did not want to come: the air was too hot and her skin was burning, and she felt pearls of sweat forming between her breasts. Someone must have added too much wood and the manor was too hot to sleep in. Dorota got up from the bed and went to open the window. Her hair felt slightly unfamiliar, falling freely on her back and shoulders, but she found strange pleasure in it. 

And as she went closer to the window and opened it, just a bit, she felt great curiosity to look outside. 

And as the cold night air hit her skin, she felt a twofold shiver: from the chill and from the sight she saw at the dark line of the trees. The moon suddenly was brighter and its rays hit the silhouette, and suddenly it fully appeared: a woman, tall and pale like the moon, with wild hair indeed as if snakes around her head, and strange eyes shining in the dark. Dorota gasped and pushed the window shut, and as it closed with a loud thud, the woman was gone.

She exhaled and put her hand across her heart, calming herself down. She could feel the cold air’s effect on her body underneath her fingertips, and her cheeks burned with shame again. Or perhaps it wasn’t the cold air at all.

She went back to bed, the room still too hot, and after a moment of tossing around and throwing off the covers, she fell asleep.

In the dream, which smelled like smoke and rain, she stood at the crossroads. She recognised them, somehow, and felt as if the was there before. The wind was howling in the treetops and the moon was hidden behind clouds. Her hair was loose and her gown was nearly undone, and was strangely and shamefully warm. She turned around and looked at the dead tree: but suddenly the dead tree was no more and instead a rock split in the middle sat there, glistening with rain and covered in moss. She knew this rock, somewhere deep inside, but couldn’t remember fully. But she felt weary suddenly, and sat on it as if on a throne, and it was soothingly cold against her flushed skin. And she could tell she wasn’t alone. She could see, in the corner of her eye, a pale and tall figure, and tangled wild hair. And she felt a cold hand caress her cheek, and she could swear she knew it, somehow, but she couldn’t remember anything more. But she gave in to the caress as it felt the most natural and obvious thing in the world, and she shifted on the split rock and, she felt a shiver run through her. And she pressed a little bit harder against its cold glistening surface, and she moved a bit more, and moved again, and shifted, _and_ \- 

Her eyes opened wide and her breath stopped for a second. The room was hot and so was she. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her and she quickly got out of bed and kneeled, and started praying, and praying, and praying, and doing her best to ignore the strange and shameful ache between her thighs. 

She did not dare look through the window. 


	8. Unrest.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The excitement of the previous night still warms Dorota strangely, and she cannot stop thinking about the dream. But Henryk comes back, and with him the necessary mundanity and responsibility. Little do they know that he brings danger with him, too, and sudden fear will fall on the manor.

Dorota woke up late — much later than usual. She felt strange and her stomach turned unpleasantly when she rose from the bed, but the joy from the night before was still burning in her heart and she could not wait to go to the kitchen for breakfast. To see Aniela and Marychna, to see Janek and Jasiek, to greet Józef and all the servant girls! The thought alone made her smile. The night before was so wonderful and full of magic, and left her so warm and happy and cared for — she could hardly remember the last time she felt like this. Or, rather, she did remember the last time, but she chose not to think of it too often, as the memory of her late father was still a painful thorn in her grieving heart. 

She ran her fingers through her hair, caught off guard by the fact that she did not braid them. The light caress of her fingers reminded her of the dream that haunted her that night — sweet haunting as it was — and sent a shiver down her spine. She swallowed and shook her head, trying to repel the thoughts that were coiling somewhere in her still dizzy mind. Her throat was dry and unpleasant and she quickly started to braid her hair so she could leave to the kitchen and drink some raspberry syrup. Or maybe milk, if Marychna brought any. 

As she was braiding her hair absentmindedly, the heavy wooden door to the bedroom opened. Aniela stood there, fixing her apron, with a strange expression on her face. The joy and excitement Dorota had to see them all again halted and grew smaller, pressed on uncomfortably by sudden worry.

\- A, lady, I was just about to wake you! The breakfast is — well, nearly done. Would you hurry and join us?

\- Oh. - Dorota replied and stared at her braid. - I didn’t know you’d start— well, - she wanted to add “without me” but her throat was sore and she felt it swelling up with sadness. After all, she should have just woken earlier instead of being lazy and having terrible, terrible sinful dreams.

\- No, no, my lady, we just… Your husband, God bless him of course, arrived in the early hours and woke us all up, and so we served him first as he demanded. I wanted to wake you much earlier but I was kept busy in the kitchen. Please do not be upset, my lady, I have some fresh butter for you and sweet confiture.

\- Thank you. - she replied, feeling the clouds clear from her mood a bit. - I will get dressed and- Henryk, is he in a good mood? - she asked suddenly. 

\- Yes, my lady. - Aniela replied and tried to smile, yet the strange expression from earlier bit through that smile and soured it. - He is in an unbelievably good mood. Thank God in heavens, of course. 

\- Of course. - Dorota stood up. - Will you help me with the dress? My head is still spinning, I think.

And then Aniela smiled, and she smiled honestly.

\- O, my lady, what a celebration it was yesterday! We are so glad you joined us. Janek and Jasiek set it as their most holy goal today to bring you some gift, they’ve been working on it since they woke up with the sun to tend to the horses. It might be some utterly useless wooden something, my lady, but the boys mean well.

\- A gift? For me?

\- O, you were kind and you made our evening even sweeter! And, after all, it was you, my lady, who spotted the stork!

\- The stork! - Dorota smiled as the older woman fastened the buttons of her dress. - Is Janek still dressed up as him?

\- That was Jasiek, my lady. - Aniela laughed. - And I hope he isn’t! It is still cold outside, after all, and we wouldn’t want your husband to see the simple people’s foolery, lest he deems us all mad. 

\- Nothing mad about that joy. - Dorota said, her voice suddenly stronger and more stubborn. - Henryk would complain, perhaps, yes, he is not too patient with children, but-

And she did not finish because the thought of Henryk and children made her sad. Aniela spotted that and decided to change the subject quickly, so she would not have too much time to think about such unpleasant things first thing in the morning.

\- Chaber sits where you sat last night, my lady, and refuses to move. He is more stubborn than ever! He really must have taken a liking to you, like we all have.

Dorota felt her cheeks go red but a smile appeared on her face involuntarily as well.

\- I hope he did not break any eggs last night.

\- So do I! I haven't had the chance to count them yet, and if he have, I’m sure Marychna made sure to hide the shells so I don’t see them, that girl. - she shook her head. - Well, yes, there we go! All done. Let us go to the kitchen and I will ask her to fetch some milk, too, what do you say my lady?

Something strange was in that walk, from the bedroom to the room where they ate: the corridor was dark, embracing and deep, and made her think of the dream she had. Her head was still spinning slightly and the first ray of sunlight that suddenly crept through the cracked door made her squint. But this house, even though she spent there a couple of nights only, it felt more familiar than the home she shared with her husband. She did not feel like a stranger anymore — perhaps because the day before she was let into the kitchen, the heart of the place, with all its warmth and joy and intimacy. She knew already which parts of the floor creaked; she knew which paths Chaber would take to sneak into the larder, she could tell apart the sound of Marychna’s heavy steps from the quick cascade of Janek and Jasiek chasing Kaśka the goose when she got into the manor. The strange roosters crowing felt so familiar, the cow’s uneven impatient moos sounded like the safest song. The fur around her shoulders that kept her warm among the mountain mornings still smelled slightly like smoke and wine. Dorota absentmindedly turned the silver ring on her finger with her thumb — since she found it in the split rock she only took it off with Henryk around, and she played with it a lot when her thoughts grew heavy and cloudy. As a child, her mother would scold her for playing with things instead of paying attention, especially during mass when she would keep turning the buttons on her cape until they’d come off, or pull on the fringe of her dress. But it helped her anchor herself when her mind would pester her too much, or when boredom nested itself painfully in her muscles. 

A smile appeared on her face — the familiarity of the manor, feeling at home, the wonderful ring (which she still hoped for to be some eerie magical sign), the still-burning excitement of the previous night, it all lifted her spirits and truly added to the joyful spring mood. The April air smelled so sweet when let in through the open windows, and snow was nearly gone from the fields. 

\- Ah, my dove! - Henryk said loudly, wiping his mouth. - What a wonderful day we have! Did you sleep well?

\- Oh, yes, yes, husband. - she smiled, yet it was a different smile. - How was your trip?

\- Good, good. Sit, eat! You must eat something, you don’t look good. - he said, taking another swing from the cup before him. - Did you eat anything yesterday, after I was gone to visit the priest?

\- Yes, my lord. - Aniela replied instead, seeing that Dorota wasn’t sure what to say to her husband’s remark. - We are taking care of our good lady and I think you can even see the pink on her cheeks!

\- Hm, perhaps. - Henryk replied. - Oh! The priest invited us both next month, after Easter, to celebrate!

\- Celebrate? - Dorota asked.

\- Oh, yes, yes. I will be donating money, you see, to rebuild the church’s roof.

\- I see.

\- Yes, and of course, we must not celebrate before the Good Lord rises like some pagan fools, so we will celebrate with the parish only after Resurrection. 

\- Of course. - Dorota replied, reaching for the raspberry syrup. Her cheeks burned slightly and when she looked at Aniela, she had her eyes averted. - And what will the celebration be?

\- I don’t know, not really, perhaps something simple. These are all simple people, after all, even the parish priest… Ha, you should have seen how happy he was when I agreed to donate the money! Still, I will surely tell you every detail of the celebration.

\- He did invite us both, you said?

\- Oh of course, my dove, but I would not dare strain your health with such a tedious journey, the parish is hours from here. Good woman, give me more milk! This confiture is way too sweet. 

\- Would you agree to take a walk with me today, husband? The weather seems so nice and the catkins on the trees are yellow like the sun. - Dorota asked, eager to change the subject. 

\- Perhaps, I need to take a nap first. - he replied. - I am terribly tired.

\- Of course. - she smiled, and it was again, a different smile. Not fully a smile, perhaps, not truly. 

\- You eat and I will go sleep for a bit. - he stood up and kissed her forehead lightly. 

\- Will we go after you wake up? 

\- We’ll see, dove, we’ll see. Now eat. - he said and left the dining chamber.

Dorota ate a bit but was too lost in her own thoughts. She really wanted to keep her good mood but it wasn’t easy. 

\- Could you leave me alone for a moment, Aniela? - she asked. - I need to think.

\- Of course, my good lady. - the older woman replied. - I will be in the kitchen if you need me. 

She tried to eat, she really did her best, but her stomach felt strange and nothing tasted as good as it did the night before. She stood up, her head still slightly spinning, and decided to go outside on her own. Maybe to the barn, maybe just walk around for a bit. Catch the sun as it would be gone in a couple of hours anyway. As she left the dining room, quietly, she heard voices from the kitchen. They weren’t loud, no, but that only drew her attention more. She sneaked to the door, glad again that she knew exactly in which spots the floor would make a sound. 

\- Wonderful. - it was Józef’s hushed voice. - Just wonderful. 

\- He does have priorities, you cannot blame the man. - Aniela replied. - Isn’t the Lord’s most holy home more important than the stables?

\- Of course, of course! - the man’s voice was bitter. - The church has gold enough, and our horses get sick in winter, but yes, I am sure God in heavens cares for that one roof more. 

\- Goodness, Józef. I have asked him for the money to rebuild the old well, too, and he told us he had none. But he has enough for the church’s roof and we are in no position to be bitter. 

\- Ha! Sure he has. So obvious, too.

\- Obvious? - another voice chimed in, followed by a meow. - Shush, Chaber. Why obvious?

\- Marychna, do you think things are that easy? And men that good? - Józef huffed. - The Duke’s men are in town, and perhaps the Duke himself will visit.

\- So?

\- Do you think it is a coincidence? That now the lord flaunts his money, now he feels charitable? He’d sell his soul to be noticed by the Duke.

\- Józef, by God, quiet! - Aniela said angrily. 

Dorota took a deep breath and quickly — but quietly — went outside. Worrying thoughts started clouding her mind again, and she could not get rid of them. The Duke… She remembered the one time she overheard her mother talk to her servant. Her mother did say that the marriage… That the reason Henryk proposed, that what he truly wanted was not Dorota but the link to older nobility, link to money… A way to the Duke… To raise through the ranks, to-

\- A, good lady! Don’t sit on that bench, it’s wet and cold! - Marychna shouted, running out of the manor. Chaber was right behind, shaking his tail and looking for birds in the trees. - You’ll get sick!

\- Sure, sick! Do I look so ill already?!- Dorota shouted back, and Marychna stopped abruptly, confused.

\- That is not what I mean, no. - she replied carefully. - I see the wine- Oh, sorry, my lady, sorry.

\- The wine what?

\- Nothing. - Marychna said and smiled widely. - Do you want me to get you some flowers, my lady? The fields are blooming already and it will only get better! 

\- Mhm, maybe. - Dorota said quietly. - Sorry, I did not mean to shout at you.

\- No worries, my lady, no worries. I shouted first, kind of, no?

\- Kind of, yes. - Dorota smiled, standing up. - The bench is quite wet indeed. 

\- It rained just after sunrise. The marsh marigolds surely liked it, I’ll get some for you.

\- Thank you. I should be heading inside soon, wake my husband.

And before she even finished straightening her dress, Henryk appeared in the door.

\- There you are! Is the servant girl pestering you again? 

\- No. - Dorota replied with bitterness in her voice. She wanted to scold him, but it would change nothing. - Where are you going, husband?

\- I must go back to town, my darling, I am really sorry.

\- Now?

\- Yes.

\- Today? Why? You just came back.

\- Yes, yes, but I have business to attend to. I will be back tomorrow. 

\- Where will you sleep?

\- Oh, Dorota, my sweetest wife, do not worry about such things. Perhaps you should get back to your embroidery? You hardly touched the thread since we arrived.

\- Of course. - Dorota smiled, and it was not a smile at all. - My apologies, husband. I wish you safe travels and I will wait for you, then. 

\- See! You are wonderful. - Henryk smiled and kissed her cheek. - Where are the stable boys? I need horses readied. What was his name?

\- Janek?

\- Sure, sure. Girl, you, go get the boys, I need my horses readied to go. 

Janek and Jasiek appeared soon enough, hurried by Marychna. One of the boys had his pockets full of flowers, and hid something awkwardly behind his back. They ran to the stables and Dorota only caught a glimpse - it was something wooden, for sure, carved into a shape that did not look like much yet.

\- Playing with toys their age, good lord. - Henryk shook his head on his way to the stables. Dorota waved him goodbye. 

\- Not a toy, my good lady. - Marychna laughed quietly. - Just so you know, please, pretend not to see it.

\- Why? - Dorota asked as they went back to the manor.

\- They’ve been making it since yesterday, I think. I don’t know what it is yet, but it is for you.

\- Oh. - Dorota felt a smile coming. - Aniela did tell me they had plans to… To gift me something?

\- Please don’t be upset if it looks like nothing in particular. - the girl laughed again, louder this time. - But they mean well. 

Dorota wanted to say that she never really got gifts from anyone else than her husband when he wanted to show off, but it sounded too pathetic to utter out loud. 

The evening came, cold but sweet. Dorota spent the day embroidering after all: she did not have yellow thread for the marigolds and catkins, but she hoped Henryk would agree to buy her some once he comes back. 

She was lost in her thoughts. Her hands were busy but her mind kept going back to the dream she had last night. The burning shame was cooled by the evening’s air and curiosity grew bigger than the guilt. There was something so eerie and exciting about that dream, and she felt a shiver run through her as she remembered that this night she would sleep alone again. Perhaps the dream would- 

\- Ouch! - she squealed suddenly as she drove the needle deep into her finger. - Oh damn it. - she stood up quickly, as her hand was bleeding ridiculously. - Damn it damn it damn it! - she stomped her foot and ran out of the room. 

She planned to ask Aniela for help: her dress could not get bloodied, after all, it was a gift from Henryk and he told her it was really expensive. She ran to the kitchen, but before she reached it, the door to the manor opened, and Jasiek stood on the threshold. The flowers he held in his hand fell to the floor. 

\- Hide, lady! Hide! - he shouted, and Dorota stopped. - Hide! - he shouted louder.

The door to the kitchen opened too, and Józef appeared.

\- Boy-

\- Hide! Bandits! Bandits are coming, _hide!_ \- the boy cried.

\- Where’s Janek? - Józef asked.

\- I don’t know! Hide, hide! 

\- Shush, boy, go to the basement. Take the lady with you. - he ordered, his voice low and scary all of sudden. He reached for the wood axe by the door. 

Aniela appeared in the door. 

\- What’s happening? - she asked, and she could not hide the fear in her voice.

\- The tale of the lord’s riches must have reached all parts of the mountains. - Józef replied bitterly. - Go hide in the basement, now! 

But it was too late. They heard loud voices, and a dozen horses, and an echoing shot from a samopał. Strange men appeared before the manor. They were all tall and big, with fur vests on their bare chests. Their eyes were wild and hungry. The man leading them laughed — he was dark and lean, and his laugh sounded like the bark of a dog.

\- Come out, little birds, come out! Let us see who lives in this house, greet us as good Christians should! Where is your hospitality?

\- Go hide. - Józef whispered. - I will go out, you hide.

\- What are you whispering there, old man? If you do not all come out, we’ll have to smoke you out! - and the man waved the torch he was holding. 

Józef went out, slowly, still holding the axe. Aniela followed, but pushed Dorota deeper into the darkness of the corridor. She felt a hand pull her by the dress, and it was Marychna shushing her and taking her to the basement. 

\- Is there only two of you? - the man asked. - Ha, two old stumps! Where is the lord of the house, hm? 

\- He has gone to the Duke. - Józef said. - You must know the Duke is in town. His rage will be great if you as much as touch this house.

\- The Duke! - the bandit leader laughed loudly, and it echoed through the orchard. - What can he do! He is hours away and he does not know shit about these mountains! He’d get lost like a child! His rage is nothing, old fool, and you must know that. Now, drop that axe.

\- Drop the axe, old man! - the other bandits howled and laughed. 

\- Listen, you and your crone wife there… We just want the gold, is the good lord is not home. Do not force us to be mean, as we can be devils if we want to. 

\- I know. - Józef said. - But there is no gold here, the good lord took it with him.

\- Of course! Of course I believe you! We all do, no? - the leader turned to his men. - Do we believe the good lord took the gold with him and there is none left for us here? Do we, boys?

The men laughed, and readied their torches and axes.

\- So, what will it be? We have a little bird here, look! - the men behind him dragged someone to the front, and in the light of the torches, Józef recognised Janek. The boy wasn’t crying anymore, but he was shaking and his eyes were dark. - And we will pluck all his feathers out if you keep making fools out of us. 

\- Please leave him alone. I am telling you, by God, we do not have any gold. - Józef said, and his voice cracked. 

And suddenly the door behind them opened wide and with a thud, and Dorota ran out of the manor. Marychna was right behind her, scared for her life, trying to grab at her dress again and stop her. 

\- How dare you! - Dorota shouted. - You want gold! Come take it, take whatever you want from the house! The door is open! - her hair was in a disarray and her eyes were burning wild. - But do not dare touch the boy! 

\- Lady of the house, is it? - the bandit leader laughed. - What a mad scarecrow! No wonder the good lord leaves for the town so often, and takes all his gold with him!

The bandit leader drove his horse closer to the manor, shining his torch in their eyes. 

\- If you have no gold, I will take that boy to clean our boots! And I will take that hardy girl to lighten our moods! - he laughed looking at Marychna.

The blood in Dorota’s veins boiled. She was scared and on the verge of crying, but her heart was full of rage and as a lioness, she was ready to fight — even if she was doomed to fail. She stepped in front of them all and raised her arm as if to cover them, push them back inside the safety of the manor, as if that could save them. 

\- Leave them! Take me if you want! - she looked the bandit leader in the eyes.

But the leader of the bandits was silent, suddenly. His eyes were fixed on her hand. 

_ On the silver ring.  _

\- You want this?! - Dorota outstretched her arm. But the bandit winced and leaned back involuntarily. His eyes were fixed on the ring and his expression changed. He was uneasy.

His men all took a step back. Dorota looked at her hand herself - it was covered in blood, still, and the silver ring shone in the dark ominously.

\- Let us go. - some man in the back shouted. - To hell with this!

\- You know what this is. - another man added and shouted to the leader. - I will not die for their gold, I am not mad!

\- I won’t get cursed for some fool’s riches! - shouted another. - You know that ring! 

\- Shut your mouth! - the leader shouted back, angrily. But he threw his torch on the grass and spat on the ground. - What cursed house is this, that you deal with the witch! - he spat again and turned his horse. He turned around to face them, once again, but did not dare look at the ring again. 

\- We’ll get what’s ours anyway, and no duke and no witch will save you next time. We’ll cut the bitch’s hand if we have to, and we’ll drag the priest here by his hair to clear this soil from evil. - he spat again, and the bandits drove off, as suddenly as they appeared. 

Dorota stood there, shivering and speechless. Józef ran to help Janek up, and Marychna hugged Aniela, weeping. 

But Dorota just stood there, and looked at her bloodied hand and the silver ring. 


End file.
